Like the earth
I listened to the moans
of your footfalls,
every resentful thud
grinding in the rough
impendency you carry
The harried, the hunters –
we all ran in circles
for we are born to run
and flow like rivulets;
do not fret
Keep your faith
for the bounty in serendipity
roaming this circle
without a trace,
and save room
for emergency and beauty
in the empty space
you carry
Norman Santos
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/save-a-room/
