Crushed Cans
Not much time, ©
Copyright 1999, Douglas Decicco, 181 Dogwood Lane, South Windsor, CT
- This poem may be duplicated and distributed freely provided the
following three restrictions are adhered to during the duplication
and distribution of said poem, regardless of the number of recursive
duplications or distributions made:
very little space,
yet the influence of these choices spread.
Forcefully in invisible directions
harnessing the lost and derailed along the way
on the downhill path to the sea.
Unaware we stand
in the midst of it all
laughing at our own ignorance.
In utter powerlessness all our energies
are just ripple that somehow join with the stream
of destiny, shooting like a geyser into the unknown.
Even without hope
loveliness persists
and becomes bright in its own lifetime.
Without wild flowers and crushed cans at the roadside,
where would beauty be but gray in the midst of gray
or white in the midst of white? What difference is there?
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