We are all just tiny vapors in an immense stellar sea.
We are here like a whisper, and then we pass into eternity.
I watch with dismay at all the vapors in this time of my life,
And I shake my head in heavy sadness,
as some vapors think of themselves so high.
Oh, what it is to see this most sordid affair
When all the haughty vapors put on the air.
They puff themselves up into this mighty cultural scheme,
failing to realize that they are not much more than a fleeting dream.
For if they only knew, they would understand…
They are really nothing more that self gratifying puffs of steam who only puff up on demand
J. Allen Wilson © 12-25-2005
On The Road To Tybee Island