Member Poem

Some steps uncounted every traveler must walk
From where it started to an end indistinct.
Why then let toes leave a doughy mark,
If these steps clamour for earnest feet?

Through the steps of events bleak and bold,
Too frail for the feet, too pale for the mind;
If we wish and all steps be gold,
No steps are covered and we are left behind.

No time is wasted time, for they speak:
It is of desolation, a debacle, a doom,
Who have felt not what’s joy and are weak,
For every painful second binds to be a bloom.

With every second to its kind and an hour ending;
All that befalls is for a good befalling.