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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=388873" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Some Distant Day</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">stillness wrapped in stillness, <br>memory ingrained in time.<br>an ancient holy book written<br>on a leaf, that falls freely, <br>turns bright with passion, <br>and crumbles into death! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">who are we? <br>and what remains? <br>more than the inflection of voice? <br>less than scriptures etched in stone? <br>a star? a caterpillar? a gust of wind? <br>does the soul retain identity? <br>the spirit have a familiar face? <br>does the name change...<br>from Henry to pebble, <br>from William to speck of dust? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">angel's wings, i think not! <br>neither pitchforks, nor hideous horns! <br>does the stone i read this poem to...<br>hear me? know what i've said? <br>recognize and feel comfort? <br>or is it all worms and time<br>and black and white photographs? <br>or a dropp of rain that feels<br>like a lover come back? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">or are we just nails<br>rusted on the bridge of time? <br>do you know? do you care? <br>will your lips quiver<br>on some distant day...<br>trying to remember how<br>to speak my name?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Eric+Cockrell">Eric Cockrell</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=388873" data-title="Some Distant Day de Eric Cockrell" data-description="stillness wrapped in stillness, memory ingrained in time. an ancient holy book written on a leaf, that falls freely, turns bright with passion, and crumbles into death! who are we? and what remains? more than the inflection of voice? less ..."></div> </div> </div>
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