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Poem

The semblance of existence remains in the worth of our lives,
In the structure of what grows within;
Yet the good of all mankind is measured by its worth 
And not by the makeup of those lives;
Still ponder the signs of our thoughts and beliefs
And the structure of the ideas therein     

We remain beneath the starlit side of the moon,
Forever lost in a light still unseen;                                                                    
And the intention of ones worth is measured by its character 
Until the structure of that character is consumed;
Farewell to the uncertainties of our faith
And what is held in the structure within

Could time in passage take the worth of us all?
Like a faun in the winter of its being;
But instilled our memories seem so long to depart
That the structure of thought is no more!
For a shadow is lost in silent demise 
Hidden in the structure within

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