D ay warms to day, to night dark night succeeds,
A nd strings the Present as a row of beads
U pon Time’s rosary. The Future feeds,
G athers life’s leaves, by instinct led, or chance, -
H ere crops a leaf, another lets advance,
T here leaves alone, preparing renaissance.
E xistence swings upon a string. Hope breeds
R esponse entrusting tide which won’t recede
O r stagnant stale. We should evolve as reeds
F or whom the gales of life, each happenstance,
H old meaning but no menace, may enhance
O ur sense of being part of Life’s full dance.
Prepare each day, play role repair which brings
Enlightenment whose harmony rhyme sings...
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