Man’s searching, turning every stone.
Man’s searching, why so alone!
Filling his cup, to the brim it flows.
Filled to the full, this life he sows.
By day, by night, his substance he spends,
to find in this life, only a friend.
Ere long he fills, he spins, he toils,
only to find life losing it's spoils,
Wisdom speaks, in the street she cries,
to live is to die! To live is to die!
Oh man that searches, die out to self,
now turn the stone, now live your life!
Copyright © Terry Henderson