and so we are but this...
the match struck ablaze,
for a moment and gone...
the flower that blooms for a day.
the rain dropp dissolving into the earth,
the small stone washed away,
when the river surges.
the memory of dawn
forgotten in the night...
the lonesome farewell of the snail
crossing just before light...
leaving only a small wet trail
as evidence of passing! , , ,
and the shout of joy,
that sounds like silence!
Eric Cockrell
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/snail-crossing-part-fourteen/
