echoes of Whitman

by Bethany Lee

echoes of Whitman
run through my head
while those that I Love
sleep sound in their bed…

navigating the yellowbrick road.
The crickets rouse suspicion
Of the Creation story I’ve been told,
So archaic and old.

I hold a piece
Of the fragmented puzzle,
A design so vast,
Human mind could never
Encompass it all,

But from my point of view,
What I have discovered
Is enough
To Trust
In the design of the
Ultimate Artist.


Posted on 12/21/2006
Copyright © 2024 Bethany Lee

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 10/11/07 at 01:17 AM

Well said! I'll go for the Ultimate Artist!

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