Post by artolmaeus on Mar 24, 2024 0:04:08 GMT -6
there is never a mark for the receding tide
but always how far it reaches
sparrows dead all around, some hitting the glass
some growing old, some taken by a hawk
but if a sparrow is in it's strength
then it makes a nest, it finds a mate
and it makes more
like cockroaches or cicadas, it's all a matter of numbers and reach
save a little money, make a little change
and somehow in time, how compounding is strange
but greed, like a hawk, takes what it will
at first with great distance, and then with great speed it knocks down it's target
and while falling mid air, takes in it's talons and eats it right then
if once in a moment, if there is such a rush
passing glances and chances, or merely a brush
comes across greatness, inglorious ones too
not everyone has laces on every shoe
how dry is a desert without any rain
and how dry things grow like chaos expands
what the eye sees soon turns to the hands
no conqueror a home in their passage through lands
the third dimension is money
and no matter how hard you try
there is never enough to substantiate a lie
even God does not know God and how He has tried
making copies of himself, and sparing not even one, pride
how soon the world ends, in every life
as billions of deaths draws the curtains
on a small stage still too big to remember
like January is the first, but it follows December
little pictures with light so should we remember
sparrows are always abundant, though fragile and tender
living in the coldest winter and surely the is room there for pain
but using mere air as an insulator
is hard to explain
like a cashmere sweater when given the wrong care
becomes small enough for a small teddy bear
and for some there are things that are given avoid
and still there are those that will still be annoyed
and all the riches we seek are still just a void
but always how far it reaches
sparrows dead all around, some hitting the glass
some growing old, some taken by a hawk
but if a sparrow is in it's strength
then it makes a nest, it finds a mate
and it makes more
like cockroaches or cicadas, it's all a matter of numbers and reach
save a little money, make a little change
and somehow in time, how compounding is strange
but greed, like a hawk, takes what it will
at first with great distance, and then with great speed it knocks down it's target
and while falling mid air, takes in it's talons and eats it right then
if once in a moment, if there is such a rush
passing glances and chances, or merely a brush
comes across greatness, inglorious ones too
not everyone has laces on every shoe
how dry is a desert without any rain
and how dry things grow like chaos expands
what the eye sees soon turns to the hands
no conqueror a home in their passage through lands
the third dimension is money
and no matter how hard you try
there is never enough to substantiate a lie
even God does not know God and how He has tried
making copies of himself, and sparing not even one, pride
how soon the world ends, in every life
as billions of deaths draws the curtains
on a small stage still too big to remember
like January is the first, but it follows December
little pictures with light so should we remember
sparrows are always abundant, though fragile and tender
living in the coldest winter and surely the is room there for pain
but using mere air as an insulator
is hard to explain
like a cashmere sweater when given the wrong care
becomes small enough for a small teddy bear
and for some there are things that are given avoid
and still there are those that will still be annoyed
and all the riches we seek are still just a void
