The Raging Storm of Life
Our lives are as fleeting
as a snow storm in March.
Raging wind, pellets of ice,
blankets of clouds graying the day.
The calm, the beauty, the serenity,
the glow of the fresh, innocent snow.
So alive, so compelling, so now in time –
so quickly forgotten.
Is our purpose in life to leave behind
cold legacies and monuments in stone
or take with us the beauty
the serenity and the glow.
Why does man feel he must be immortal?
Leave his mark on the world.
Most of the time, his mark should be erased
or never drawn in the first place.
Is the word a canvas
waiting for strokes of dark, ugly paint
or is it a fleeting symphony of joy,
hope and passion?
It’s our choice to mark, to defame
the natural beauty, our brother’s hearts,
our loved ones lives –
or create a timeless phrase that sings in harmony.
Whatever we choose,
our path is soon lost to all who follow.
Do our monuments leave splendor for others
or do our kind deeds leave a hope to embrace,
light the way, giving a helping hand?
Is man so small, so insecure
that the only memory he can leave
is a physical block of granite?
Do his deeds, his love, his caring,
continue to live in the hearts of others
or has his memory become
hate, anger or simply disappeared?
Perhaps the intangible, but real acts of kindness,
love and gentle caring are too hard for man to build,
they don’t require tools of the trade,
loans from the bank,
the enslavement of others.
Our lives are truly as fleeting as a winter storm,
but what will the memory be?
Will the monuments and tall buildings cause long shadows,
kill all hope, surround man in a chill of despair,
or will the essence of love and caring
cradle each new arrival,
guide the way for generations to come,
grow in the hearts of all mankind?
Poetry by Patricia Walter 2000