and all my tomorrows, <br />will flow into a rivulet, <br />of no more, <br />and this stream will sink <br />into the earth, <br /> <br />not even a moist spot <br />will mark the end, <br />all my yseterdays, <br />and all my tomorrows <br /> <br />will go up in smoke <br />spirling upward and outward, <br />or unmoving, blend as <br />a mixture and compound, <br /> <br />perhaps unnoticed, <br />perhaps unfound. <br />perhaps unseen, <br />perhaps unbound, <br /> <br />no, - when I cross the bar, <br />there remains a legacy, <br />to seek to find <br />and would not yield,<br /><br />shimon weinroth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/all-my-yesterdays/
