![]() ![]() Fear him not, he's not thy master, rushing at thee faster, faster. He had no secrets he can keep to trouble any good man's sleep. ![]() Hard to accept, this earthly procession to final darkness is a journey done, circle completed, work of art sublime, a sweet melodic rhyme, a battle won. It's too damned short, and that's a fact. Life is a gift that must be given back and joy should arise from its possession. But under winter fields so cold, wait the dormant seeds of seasons unborn, and so the heart does hold hope that heals all bitter lesions. With winter here and autumn gone, it just seems best to rest, to rest. ![]() In the fields of life, a harvest sometimes comes far out of season, when we thought the earth was old and could see no earthly reason to rise for work at the break of dawn, and put our muscles to the test. ![]()
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