A Life Which Cometh Full Circle…the poem

 A small child cried,

as its toy was devoured by the receding tide.

I watched it in a slow and broken motion

as it bobbed but for a moment

and then sunk quickly to the bottom of the ocean.

Yet, now it is I which cries

But not for the child, or the toy, but I cry for me.

I weep openly for what I know,

I mourn unnaturally for what I see.

I fall down in mortal weakness

As I taste the bitter waters of my own reality.

For I, we, all of mankind is likened to the sand

 that is gathered silently by the sea.

We drift and we blow

From places seen, and to lands unknown.

We are just temporal grains of humanity

Tossed in tempest to and fro…

Here but for a moment…then gone.

Gone…and remembered not

Gone and soon replaced by another anonymous grain

Which did the ever constant sea bring forth

 to render once again that all things remain the same.

J. Allen Wilson © 2005