Rhythms of Life

Ends are beginnings too if eternity’s true,
but if crosses are only losses
and pain has no gain,
there are no winners,
including God.

Rhythms of life become tedious hell
going round and round
in infinite meaningless circles,
and seasons have no reason.

The droning of summer bees;
the tender fall of leaves;
winter whiteness
and the gentle drops of spring dew
like cosmic jewels,
are nothing.