Monday, February 28, 2011



Even those things we set into stone
Will one day pass, will one day groan
As the wind lifts off the dust and sand
The rain will take them by the hand

And cast them into the wells of time
So they may be dissolved into unknown, unrhymed
Nutrient for a future and a promise and hope
The bucket is lowered, extended the rope

What is raised up is only what has been lowered
Standing upright, unafraid, uncowered
Yet full of the essence, full of unknown
What is harvested now is what has been sown

But no one remembers where it came from…

K, Duane Carter 2-28-11

1 comment:

  1. history is sometimes so myserious - some things - as you write - just happen, are sown and will grow up anew, bearing the seed of the past