The Cycle
Upon far yonder hill is grass,
weeping for this earth to last.
Each blade a symphony of life
tortured in the winds so rife
Beat upon by storm and rain
yet still standing to maintain
and sustenance quite strong and pure
determined spirit to endure.
We are like the grass and such
formed of mightier stuff and much
to sing our universe of songs
believing that our choice lacks wrong.
All which happens has been planned
like earth, sky, sea and man.
Following blueprints of our walk.
To younger folk our wisdom, talk.
6/25/2022
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE
Copyright © Janis Thompson | Year Posted 2022
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