They Are All The Same
the silver fishes grouping
and scattering on the depths
of the dark blue sea
the white flapping wings of
birds within the circle of their
species, poised to fly far distances
the leaves falling from a tree to
the ground then blown by the
wind towards the desert and
the immeasurable mirages
oh, they are all the same
they are going somewhere
they are taken by what their
instincts and their hearts say
like us here, we are packing
we are always leaving so what
is the use of crying or even
laughing and merry making?
we are destined for some place
higher than this one
we are meant not for this or for
us but for some planes of
mystical existence that for
now we cannot really understand
prepare for that destiny
you do not have to carry a cent.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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