And when I stop to think
Of greater things
Portents
Of import
Then do I wonder at the world
And when I stop to think
Of greater things
Portents
Of import
Then do I wonder at the world
Not idly does the sun
Rise o’er the horizon line
Each day it brings
Is a gift
So often my thoughts turn
Spin
Run
When I would have them be still
For what do we so often pine
When we gaze at th’horizon line?
Hurried wanderers bereft of coin
With naught but tales and stories for to tell
They are the movers of thought
What wisdom hath man,
He who destroys so?
And though it’s oft that winds of change
Come galloping through life
We in such times accept the strange
And see past fleeting strife
From whence comes the rain?
Its smells are primally sweet
I would follow them
If such is life that often we
Are lost when we’d be found
Why, then, can’t I feel unbound, free
When chaoses abound?
And with a breath so do we say
The things that fill our minds
Without a mind to how the sound
Will fall on list’ning ears.