What is left behind

I left some footprints in the sand, soon to be washed away.

One after another they disappear into the waves, my presence erased.

In contemplating this action, can I find some correlation to my being here.

This now, that I’m living.

Every step I take disapearing in my wake. Every thing I do slowly eroding in the waves of time.

What permanence is there in the things that we accomplish?

Should there be permanence in the things we do? Or should all that we do, be worn away. As the land is to the sea.

Some of my work will outlive me, these words may exist beyond my breathing, perhaps. Perhaps I’m being egotistical in this thought.

How long will my simplistic art survive after my last footprints are cast? Before it rusts back into the soil.

Maybe the enduring influence of my presence, is the influence on others. Causing some hopefully positive reactions down through the generations.

As I have been influenced by the previous, their presence enduring.