Poetry

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A clean slate
Shaken etch-a-sketch
Removing the dust
From our past
A past anything
To begin again
Knowing this will cause our mind
Our body and spirit
To soar higher
To appear as legacy
And nobody knows
Supposing we succeed
What came before
What the former held
Instead they see the new
The fresh
The what we are

Truth be told
We are
What we were
What we become
And rather than forsake that past
We build upon it
Some in fact does remain
Some the good
Needed
We are not isolated incidents
A vacuum
We live, learn, succeed
Because of that rising
From the ashes as it were
Of a burning of the old
To form the foundation
Of our legacy

And when we die
Return to ashes
Of this former world
All that remains
Etched in stone
Is our final record
A summing up of the years
One big pile
Full deep with rubbish
Yet hidden with jewels
Precious to this world in some sort

This we seek
To create jewels that really only come
With renewal
A recreation of ourselves
A constant reflection and
Unflinching, humble recognition
Of our past
To the end of our future

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