Crossing Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Crossing



Our days are like water
Hollowing the stone
Ways of difference splatter
In these times alone

The wind of every playing
And escaping here through
Nowhere for long is staying
Always going to renew

Singing in whirling curving
Meeting the going by
Emotions of stilled steering
In clouds or a clear sky

Crossing of vanishing dreams
Emptiness going scatter
In to the times streams
Where nothing seems to matter

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