Life is fickle,
Sometimes we abound and other times we abase.

Youth like spring is filled with running clouds across the endless blue sky.
Never ending, it seems.
No thought nor word that someday we all, both good and bad
Must bid this world goodbye.

So many now I’ve seen give up the ghost,
Leaving those left behind;
Saddened, bewildered and wondering why.

Therefore chase not the running clouds;
Cling ever tight to each day.
Remember those who are now gone,
Think of those who are and may soon to go…
Search thy heart and constantly without ceasing pray.

J. Allen Wilson © 12/05/2013