There is a long way
still to go

I, like Walt Whitman,
have found power
in contemplating
a blade of grass
dew in the flower
a moth in lamplight

but the grass can only
grow so high
the dew only lasts
the morning
and a moth cannot
see the starlight

I must keep filling
my tank
with poetry

and reaching for
the most sublime

for there is a long way
still to go