Posted by
GeorgAnna
at
9:31 AM
....as for man his days are as grass; as a flower
of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind
passeth over it, and it is gone, and the place
therof shall know it no more
Psalms 103:15-16
The days of man are as a field, flowering with grass
We forget that we, like time and life
all three will pass and we are gone
A cool wind whispers and the place thereof shall be erased
like all existance
Man is immortality
*
Man walketh on the wings of wind
and vaults up steps of song
back to a pre-existant point in time
where we belong
*
Labels: Poetry
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