RipplesA Poem by SADSChoices are stones, Tossed into a silent pond. Ripples dancing across its surface, Marking the epicenter of the disturbance. The ripples meet others, Forming new islands. A path of stepping stones we cross. Twisting, turning and evolving as we do, Bringing us ever closer to the opposite bank. Fog obscures vision as we step from stone to stone, Choice to choice. The choices forgotten, But the ripples are not. The bank offers rest and comfort, A soothing end to a long journey. But as our eyes close we notice the water. What were once ripples are waves. Our passage left consequences, Rushing to meet us. The man is forgotten within the once again silent pond, His only legacy the ripples he made. Soon they too have returned to whence they came, To the glassy waters of the murky pond, To silence.
© 2014 SADSAuthor's Note
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Added on July 1, 2014Last Updated on July 4, 2014 AuthorSADSReno, NVAboutWriting is how I express myself. Which is the point of the medium I suppose. Where others find solace in religion or family, I find it in words. I love the works of Stephen King, Tolkien and Dougl.. more..Writing
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