Who knows the nature of our life,
Our roots and where we grow?
When so much like the sweetest song,
So briefly here, forever gone,
We hold it back, but must let go.
What measure might account our life?
To what must we compare?
At what point did you choose to stop?
Or did you seek the mountaintop?
And just how brazen did you dare?
What import then in all our life?
How well do we resound?
Were you the one who made the day?
Or pest that’s at its best away?
Or better yet, beneath the ground?
We have momentum in our life
From force of every act,
The stone that makes the water's wave,
What we might ruin, what we save,
Our choices always bouncing back.
c. March 2000
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