By Stephen Cheney
We try not to intrude
Into each other’s domains,
But we are born to intrude.
We try not to look into darkness,
Into mystery more than our own,
But we are the eyes in the dark.
Our footprints pressed to sand;
Washed away by the tide of time,
Swept into a forgottenness,
By the changing churning wind.
(Image: Hacker Grenade/Google Images)