Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Ridges of countless passings


Sixty Years Hence

The howls of youth wail about us.
We steel our ears and still our paws.
Night will hold us with equal measure.

It has always been thus. Bent we set to
the hunt and bent we are taken for it.
The stars slip further away and we dim.


Yet, soil takes the weight of our soles,
bids them press deeply their imprint,
the ridges of countless passings sustain.

This is how we do it: one life at a time.
Mine, yours, theirs, all who went before;
all who lead after; all who never were.

Joseph Gallo
October 18, 2012



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