The Hurry....
to insist, that is power enough.
to rise up, after a fall,
that is cliche that we are not afraid
to use, we are that.
stagnant pools collect,
and they die.
to run, and keep on running
that is cleansing.
to stop but only for a while
to ponder upon the plight of the dead bird
lying on the street
no one lasts long forever,
that is the most basic fact that we take along with us in our long journey.
i collect moments now. I will have more
before I die.
My neighbor wants to go with me for a hunt
i tell him do not bring any sling.
This is different, Totally different.
We are looking for silent nooks.
WE want moons, we drink only dew
and dine only those tips of the green ferns
along the way.
Black birds are overhead.
Clouds conspire with the wind and then gone.
If we stop again, we will lose.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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