This Life In The Face Of Eternity
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In these rampant, roaring times,
It is never quiet enough to hear
The wind whisper its secrets at dawn.
Who among us can still hear voices
Rustle in the leaves after they've dissolved?
Autumn's falling leaves punctuate
Our grief if we care to observe.
The constant circling of planets:
Spinning worlds measure our days.
The frantic procession of the years
And our unremembered pleasures,
Seem insignificant compared to
The Light that transfigures all forms
Of life and Eternity's epic ways.
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