Strive
He has nothing left but a triangle of faces,
An old rake,
And a heart that won't stop beating
For all the invisibility of life:
The pushing of a boat upstream,
The angular intentions of voices,
The steel nob of your car door,
The shouts against the wind.
On his beath bed the Buddha urged us to
Strive.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
