The poet is insignificant
compleatly unimportant
because he lives
and breathes
then dies.
But the Poem
the message left behind
that breaths
and grows
and takes on
a whole life of its own.

When all time has past
it is the creations
of mind
and soul
and spirit
that are permenant.
All else is consumed
in the ice
and fires
of that we call time.



D!