Send me, the little blade of grass.
Send me, here I am, the little blade of grass. And the wind goes by. The night lingers on, to be as the world drifts to sunset. All just a memory. A memory of the past, present, and future. Longing for memories away from here, for us to be gone away in the wind to the vast endlessness of imaginary space.
posted by clearminded at 6:10 PM
2 Comments:
How can the night linger as the world drifts to sunset?
Imaginary space is boring after awhile. Now dogs... dogs rock.
My posting was inspired from the following poem below that I read way back in English night school with my inspirational teacher Mrs Paup
In Heaven
By Stephen Crane
In Heaven,
Some little blades of grass
Stood before God.
“What did you do?”
Then all save one of the little blades
Began eagerly to relate
The merits of their lives.
This one stayed a small way behind
Ashamed.
Presently God said:
“And what did you do?”
The little blade answered: “Oh, my lord,
“Memory is bitter to me
“For if I did good deeds
“I know not of them.”
Then God in all His splendor
Arose from His throne.
“Oh, best little blade of grass,” He said.
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