...inspired by 'The Meaning Of Life' by Allen Tate
Breezes blow, the lark sings sweet,
there's magic in the air,
yet a sense of something rumbling.
On the surface we are carefree,
yet beyond there's someone mumbling.
The sacraments we live by are
a solace to our souls and humbling,
yet the grumbling never hesitates
to aggravate, thus crumbling our composure.
A cruel word may damage us,
so, safe in our cocoons we hide.
The everyday's a constant
'til a brief encounter weakens us,
the pain will leave its mark
as we go tumbling to a sense of insecurity,
what price that loose remark?