Who are you, reader, reading my poems an hundred years hence?
I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the spring, one single streak of aagold from yonder clouds.
Open your doors and look abroad.
From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories of the vanished flowers of an aahundred years before.
In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang one spring morning, aasending its glad voice across an hundred years.
December 11, 2007 at 7:00 pm
This man is a favorite spiritualist and poet of mine. How sweet it was for me today to hear his living joy “an hundred years hence” and over the internet no less!
December 14, 2007 at 9:14 am
Yes we are all timeless and mortal. How sweet this poem is from the words of one a time ago.
December 17, 2007 at 8:50 pm
Discussion on a poetry post!
This is a rare treat.