there comes a time
when the fire we have tended,
calls for new hands.
when the wind we have rode,
beckons for new friends.
and when the path that
leads to discovery,
needs a new body, a new soul.
when the battle for justice,
calls for new voices.
leaves turn brown and fall,
and winter snows come.
but spring always returns,
with new leaves and new song.
take what we have given,
and build an even bigger fire.
spread your wings, taste the sky,
past the limits of our endurance.
and when you get to the top
of the highest mountain...
the applause you hear
will be the ghosts of old poets.

shine on!

Eric Cockrell

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-young-poets/