History Repeats Itself, Unseen Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

Not keen of blade, not quick of mind,
A simple heart, a gentle kind.
Yet, even I can plainly see,
This path we walk, sets nothing free.

The dust of old, it swirls and stings,
The self-same song, the same sad things.
We stumble on, eyes closed so tight,
Towards the cliff, into the night.

It cannot be, we cry in vain,
To fall this way, to feel this pain.
But here we are, the lesson missed,
A whispered truth, a gentle kissed
Of yesterday, we would not heed,
A planted sorrow, future seed.

T.M.Solvang