Too much
laid before me,
so many miles to go.
seeming, no purpose,
I struggle on.
how can I not?
giving in the same
as crumbling away.
my dust and ash
without meaning.
but forward?
there is the promise
of something new.
a possibility
of mattering,
if only
to a single person.


Posted on November 23, 2015, in Poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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