During my usual walk,
I notice that
the posters are ripped
from winds, rains, snow -
the death of advertisements -
human scrawls, lines, parts of native drawings,
faded and dull,
appear amidst the remnants
of poster pieces.

And what of human lives ?
Events, loves, emotions, successes -
all who we are -
innermost thoughts, connections with others,
with supreme beings,
with our ideologies, or lack of,
our philosophies, our daily routines, conversations,
and what of these ?
Who remembers ?
Are these stored with our beings?
Do thoughts echoe on this earth,
in the cosmos, inside others,
outside this earthly atmosphere ??

And he was sprinkled over the Catskill Mountains,
over scenery he said reminded him of childhood days,
with similar landscape,
in a far away country,
across the seas and ocean.


He - who was tall and powerful -
and built homes and built a plane.
He loved the outdoors
and forests and the red earth,
and sunbeams streaming through
the cedar trees.

He passed this love on.
Perhaps it is in the love and passions
that we are remembered,
that we are influencing people -
in creativity and mannerisms,
hopefully good -
We are more than snowdust
sprinkled on the mountain trails.
We unite with natures beauty -
lovely mother earth,
Still...
So very still...
more than snow dust in the wind,
he is
within
this
earthly
cosmos...

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