In poetry

In poetry,

I have died a thousand times

yet, have lived a million lives

As I read between these lines

I see what I am blind to hear

and deaf to perceive

There is no escaping these words

for they roll across the heart

with the will of their creators

Whether in stone or in sand

with delight or sorrow of memory and life

they follow along in a journey of time

Forever they are in my mind 
forever they will remain

in the lives they leave behind