Ashen Brilliance
From the cold ashes of my memory,
Will one stir the true thought of me,
Out of the remains of my fallen ember,
Surely, I will not be gone forever,
The achingly pristine icicle of december,
Must again arise through the rushing river,
Give birth to new wisdom, hope will again stir,
The fire cannot be extinguished, not ever,
Only passed down, on to another,
All that I ask, is that all remember.
poem by Jeremy Cahoon
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
