While Fleeting The Fire
By brentsrich
When is life so true As in the lines of a poem? While volumes of prose Seem no more than a tome. Is there a more vibrant Glance at within? Like eternity dancing On the head of a pin. While fleeting the fire Which kindles each word, Still never more vivid These feelings I've stirred. And when I've departed, My last word is read, Will these phrases and pauses Still breath what I've said? Written January 20th, 2001 © on Aug 13 2001 06:27 AM PST, Rich Brents 0 • 12
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"When is life so true..."