May some dreams perish
For new ones to take shape
From the Ashes of the ones that we buried
In hope of better tomorrows.
Death is the only guarantee
To new life.
Kill me...every time you need
To be born again.
I know I have been busy I have been busy digging Little pits in shifting sands By a choppy sea, and waiting For my little dreams To form puddles in my living And slowly watch its walls collapse Into itself Water to Water Sand and all Amidst the roaring of the waves And the silences Of the droopy willows Crying In the falling rain
I'm trying to get my mind around the idea in this poem.
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