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Timeless
Is it left for me to dream,
Dreaming having all been done?
Ideas and passion once were teeming,
Leaving nothing yet to come.
Is the life within me seeming,
Or meaning more than dead men's words?
For I have read my heart on pages
Written with dust and aged with ages.
No. this is the way it was meant to be.
Like a seed just growing from its Father tree,
And the things and thoughts and branches I see
Are the life worth living handed down to me.
The greatness written on our hearts,
The truest ties of God and men,
Surrender to Honor, and Beauty and Love-
I will write them all again.
