Musing the amusing truth in rhythm of verse,
In life there’s one focal of all efforts: success.
Plainly remarkable stems of rhythm grow;
Mesmerizing and clasping and grasping wonders.
There are many worthwhile wonders buried beneath.
The topsoil, the cloud due dig deep, down miles and wide;
For lot’s hidden beyond men on the horizon.
Musing amusingly, rhythm in silhouette:
When first creations know not what’s real and what’s odd.
The rhythm- messages the night believes are vague,
While the day strives, trips, slips and sleeps off in between.
No man blames the sky for descending darkness.
It seeks none from men, not even of livelihood.
For ascending light in the days, men toil through too.
Amazing rhythms are gifts from Mother Nature.
The little born receives, foretells the more unborn,
In the kingdom of the sky, the land and the sea.