Wave Poem by John Prophet

Like a rolling
wave.
Generation after
generation
marching.
Marching to
oblivion.
Still they
come.
Conveyor belt
of humanity,
inexorably
crashing
on earthen
shore.
Each drop
irrelevant,
yet part
of larger
whole.
Each drop
lost in
time, yet
played its
role.
Each had
its time.
Its time
in the
light.
Then
in a blink,
each succumbed.
Forfeiting to
inevitability,
settling
into the
textured
substrate
of history.
Where
it all goes?
They'll
never know.
Such is
their lot
in
reality.