Echoes Of The Oar Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The wind we catch, the ground we plow,
Determines where we
stand right now.
No borrowed luck, no changing tide,
Can mask the truth we
hold inside.

A legacy in every stone,
Of seeds we dropped, of patterns grown.
The ancient laws remain awake,
In every choice we choose to make.

When winter bites and freezes cold, It strikes the young, it strikes the old.
The king will shiver in his crown,
Beside the beggar in the town.

The spark we tend, the hearth we guard,
Defends the home when times are hard.
For fire neglected turns to ash,
Destroyed completely in a flash.

The path we walk, the
dust we stir,
Becomes the map of who we were.
The final step reveals the road,
And weighs the value of the load.