Somewhere it is written,
like the setting sun,
all shall die
and time must be done -
In great surprise, somewhere
we all will find
in the dark of night
the place where we run out of time -
Somewhere, beyond
and a long way out
no one will recall
our name, nor what we were about -
Perhaps somewhere, far from now, someone
may find a poem once wrote,
words to a drowning man
as good as a life-saving boat -
If somewhere truly is a place to be
then let it be known,
though we've travelled life at different times
in this journey we are not alone -
Somewhere, they say, it is written,
ashes to ashes and dust to dust,
and the only thing that will ever really matter
is the in-between, where a good man does what he must -
Great poem Smoky. Hope someone in the far off future gets a chance to happen upon our poems and gets some enjoyment from them.
Beautiful, Smoky! I hope that in some future, something I wrote at least brought a smile.
A beautiful poem about life. ' The only thing that will ever really matter, is the in- between, where a good man does what he must.'..Wonderful message. Well penned.10
the place where we run out of time Dear Smoky your words are beautiful. Thought provoking and death is something that we do need to think about as it is part of our lives.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
in this poem, smoky, you write on things i've wondered about just recently, so i relate. i wonder, too, if there'll be any paper of books in that somewhere, whether even the most famous, the most-published will, like us, be known only to God. similar to this theme, read, if you haven't already, olga cabral's great poem electronic tape found in a bottle. -glen