do not mountains,
trees, and rivers live
their time, and die?
does not the sun
rise in the morning
only to lay down at night?
are not universes born of dust,
only to return to dust?
why should we be any different?
all that lives but a fleeting glimpse
into the workings of eternity.
yet everything that comes and goes
leaves an indelible mark,
a footprint on the water,
a face put to the wind!
Eric Cockrell
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-footprint-a-face/
