Macho Marine Poetry

I write a lot, but I don't often write poetry... Guess it's a macho Marine thing left over from the corps. That being said, poem time:

If our entire lives were a dream, ourselves floating through its scenes, then our creations are our wake in otherwise still waters. When we arrive at the end of our dream we can turn and see the ripples that stream from our fingers touch. Extending backward and chasing us down from the dreamers hands our ripples stream. But, Hollow is the man who rears to touch and careless is the man who would only seek to make waves.

For many people art is the trace we leave behind so that when we die we can be sure the world knew it was WE who existed here. No other mind, no other person, no other thoughts could have combined to create that one unique thing by our hand. This is how I feel about my film: Removed From Reality Editing and creating the film ensures that my experience will not be lost.