Prints

Fingerprints exist amidst dust and ash,
Firewood, cutlery, handles and cold cash.
Light switches and stitches of loom in shirt and tie,
Book covers, coffee spoons and whiskey in rye.

Intricate web of prints reprint in time,
Layer upon layer of our mark long in prime.
Passing through the cosmos, an echo through age,
Random scatter in shatter succumbed to pure rage.

In trace enlaced we come together as one,
Overlapping, surpassing since time had once begun.
We leave a mark, a whisper lost and free,
Our prints on life are left in guarantee.