What To Create

Very few things are forever.

What shall I create?
A boat, a home, a garden?
Will these things fulfill my fate?

We have one life to live.
What must I do, to be remembered?
Perhaps remembered is not mine to give.

There is nothing that lasts forever,
'cept perhaps my essence.
I look to myself in the mirror.

That shall soon be gone.
I close my eyes and all I see is infinite darkness.
What must I do before my pine box is sawn.

There is just one hope, that all neglect.
It is my soul, I must find,
but how to share, and in what dialect.

There is but one true answer, and that answer will be for the few.
Forever awaits in poetry, poetry direct from my soul.
It must be my spirit on the parchment or time will take it's due.

My hands, my eyes, my back have been ravaged by labor.
My boats, my houses my gardens washed away by the rains.
But, if I can reach down deep into my soul, my poems will last forever.

Reviews

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

forever, yes they will. I call mine my mark I am leaving in history........