__^__ __^__ ( ___ )--------------------------------( ___ ) | / | _____ _ | \ | | / | | __ \ | | | \ | | / | | |__) |__ ___| |_ _ __ _ _ | \ | | / | | ___/ _ \ / _ \ __| '__| | | | | \ | | / | | | | (_) | __/ |_| | | |_| | | \ | | / | |_| \___/ \___|\__|_| \__, | | \ | | / | __/ | | \ | |___| |___/ |___| (_____)--------------------------------(_____)
Donald P. Goodman III
Version 1.0 (23 June 1201)
In spring new life arises, splendid, green, and young;
in summertime it flourishes in summer's ray;
in autumn it remembers, its past glories sung;
but in the winter it must die and pass away.
So go all living things; not least so goes mankind;
we're born; our parents cherish for us futures bright;
but as the years progress, our hopes we leave behind;
before long, old and broken, we close eyes to light.
So why should fleshly things so often hopeful be?
We're born, we live, we die; have we all lost our sight?
No man enslav'd to death can ever say he's free;
All things will pass away: our only certainty.
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© Goretti Publications 1207 (2023).
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