said that of an old fisherman,
on a night of silvery silhouette:
“what we are and what we become
is not an agony of the past, but a
root of a tree, of papers where all
the great knowledge of the minds
are written truthfully to tell us
how to walk on bare feet without
hurting our soles from the thorns
and thistles.”



About chester maynes

poet, and a lover of music and books.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to stoic

  1. carsonmulligan says:


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