It’s time to write now,

Right now, this moment, create!

A world of options

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To think that somehow

The prose, the poems that we make

Can last beyond us

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A word legacy

Waves of rolling syllables

Flowing in our wake

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“What’s the point,” I ask,

Afraid I know the answer:

Maybe there is none.

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The question becomes:

If we’re mere whispers in wind

Will we not still speak?