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For you too
The world is crumbling, shedding, shifting, and forming.
What remains does; the lonely poet circling his thoughts at night reside ?
A solemn laying ground, with habitual shifting is a sleepers paradise.
Endless waves of creation and destruction we limber and relentlessly surf.
Flowering, blossoming, odorous beauties of life wander around aimlessly.
The seasons are laboriously inclined to Autumn eternally.
Life may be the fragmented revolt rising and peacefully shamed by death,
or life may be the process by which one creature engraves on Earth.
For the lovely generation we are becoming; please show compassion and comprehension for your own world.
