Did she know her poetry would last an eternity? That every poem she wrote would carry timeless certainty. Will any of us be able to step away from the shadow of greatness she casted? Will our works mean anything after we lay in our casket? What happened to the poetry society and those that can recite every line? My questions will be answered in a matter of time.
I’m inspired by her and Edgar Poe. They live forever upon the pages they sew. Now we must make our work do that of the same caliber. No matter the season, our words must live throughout the calendar. I don’t want to cast out such legacy, always on the groove. I’m just saying it’s time for the greats to make room and move.
MOVE OVER FOR US. OUR GENERATION.