"Why" before "Die"
Trying to understand,
the great plan,
Ultimate quest, of
Woman, and Man.
Yet, do we ever truly know,
Or only trace what shadows show?
"One and Done"
I'm sure my little poems,
have no chance of getting
anything "Done".
In a World of "Seven"
thousand languages
I know "One".
But words, like whispers, shape the sky,
A single voice still learns to fly.
"Connection.?!"
We can only write,
what's in "our" Mind.
Yet, still take pleasure,
in what "others", Find.
And so, within each line we weave,
A stranger’s heart may still believe.
"We Knew, So Few"
Earth's history of humans,
spans ages,
Yet individually, we get,
so few pages.
In this time, so few, we
get to know.
The rest, just flakes,
in our blizzard, snow.
But every snowflake shapes the storm,
And words like these still keep us warm.
Denny, your ink flows like an old, wise river—
A current of time, of questions, of truth.
Each verse a footprint, fleeting yet firm,
In the endless dance of age and youth.
You write of past, of now, of fate,
Of fleeting moments, vast yet small—
Yet in your lines, we contemplate,
How one man’s words can touch us all.
Gratitude for the thoughts you share,
For echoes deep and questions rare.
Poetry may not fix the world,
But it lingers, a banner unfurled.
Thank you for the verses you gift,
A bridge of thought, a gentle lift.
