Marks

We leave marks

But they are seldom recognized,

Lost in the clutter

Of time and history.

A handful are remembered,

While others are merely

Names and dates

Arranged on a line.

 

The majority are lost.

Insignificant.

The blank faces that

Fill our generalisations.

 

 

One day, all will be forgotten.

Reviews

[EMP]

"the blank faces that fill our generalisations"
LOVE IT. this is amazing. it's going in my favourites. there's a sort of mysterious feeling to this poem. and the end line is like o.O. i don't really know what i'm saying. brilliant.

[Beatrice Mars]

Much love for this.

So solem and deep, feels very personal, but at the same timeas if the voice is apart from everything else...