Begin thou not to contemplate, what thy heart, at
this moment,
Doth attempt to formulate.
For thou knowest, as sure as the rains be swept
in by the eastern wind,
ye shall surely follow blindly what thou percievest
in thine own mind to conquer.
Even as thy foundations crumble beneath thy stubborn
feet,
So shalt thou persue thine intentions
Until the slab of stone clashes against thine iron
will.
Then, shalt thou drop to thy knees in beleaguered
disbelief,
Mourning that forgotton day
When thou hadst nothing better to pass thine hours,
Than to count the lowly ants,
As they did prepare for Winter's harsh invasion.
Thine eyes shall then see the overwhelming sorrow
That this life doth cleverly conceal from the youthful
heart.
Age is cruel, and yet has it the gentility to be
kind
In some ways.
Abandon thy tainted lusts,
And turn thy darkened paths
To brighter, welcoming shores.
(C) Copyright 2001 L.A. Sanders
