Poems Don't Have to Rhyme

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To live
and leave no trace—
To die
but begin another adventure—
Destiny is rarely so organized as to be
Crowned by an overture
and concluded with a grand finale
So come down from the high places, the lofty ivory towers
Come down, masters of lore
Close fast your books, sheath your pens
Take up the walking stick and wander
More than you have ever wondered
What vanity is it to devote yourself to preservation?
To the glory of immortality
You will not live to see?
Quit this measuring of the marigold
This weighing of worth;
Beauty is an anomaly
The scientist pursues it to blot it out.
Mathematician, seize the days of your span
as you would seize an elusive answer.
Writer, quest not for a plot
But for paradise, purpose, a lover
You'll contract naught but soul-sickness here
in the shadow of the shelves.
Inventor, or innovator
tend your garden, see to your children.
Fiery orator, preacher come to save this world
save the white heat of passion for the flock closest to home
and the impressions of the flame radiate to all nations hence.
Let the dancer dance outside the confines
of the company director's lair
Permit the band to play out of tune
While the composer lets down her hair
The well-oiled machine with cogs so clean
and wheels turning ever onward
Will not break if progress halts
to let us enjoy ourselves in our time.
Let others praise the past and reach for the future—
For I am glad to be here and for now, alive.