Sonnet

If salt becomes tasteless.
Who can make it salty again.
How long lasting is our faithfulness.
To live we must die like the grain.

We will never be saints, who can say.
Perhaps one small act of kindness.
Is all we can manage every day.
This is not a game of fitness.

Our light will not brightly shine.
It is well under the table, despite our talk.
We will not be first at the finishing line.
But we will have walked hesitantly the walk.

We come in with the seas restless tide.
And we leave without trace despite our pride.

Haiku

We come with the tide
Too soon we leave with the tide
And tides ignore us