The Paper Is Piled High Poem by Shalom Freedman

The Paper Is Piled High



THE PAPER IS PILED HIGH

The paper is piled high
The years went by putting the words on the paper
The symbols on the machine have multiplied
There are millions of symbols

What have I done with my life?
God Alone knows
In this world much effort has brought
Small result

I write these words
As if they are the very first

All those moments
All those years
Believing I was doing something.

Thursday, July 2, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: writing
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Shalom Freedman

Shalom Freedman

Troy New York
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