I borrow, you borrow, we borrow
She borrows, he borrows, they borrow
The world borrows and borrows to joint sorrow
Hoping there will always be tomorrow.
What, then, do we borrow to our self-destruction
But justice delayed for the satisfaction
Of a life of pursuing our corrupt passion
And ignoring those who need our compassion?
Father of the trumpeting air and the setting sun
the purple skies and rainbow grasses
flapping ears and ardent eyes
grasshoppers dancing with the breezes
thunder of my feet
singing of the stars
beating of my heart,
I thank You whose hands have made
whose breath gives life
to me.
God of the aurora glorious
invisible Light of lights towering, blazing
across glacial mountains and hearts
over blue ice, silver melts,
resounding majesty of fiery life
bursting, joyous song of sky and sea
in solitary havens of the northern vasts,
I thank You whose hands have made
whose breath gives life
to me.
Don’t bother me now, I’m in a musical fog
of unknown dimensions, an alien force
overtaking my mind, sane thoughts crumple over,
dull murdered reason breathes its last
while treacherous tides lay siege
to reality.
Having guests over at seven o’clock today
and the table is set with the sides and entrée;
Can’t leave anything out and there’s no way
we’ll forget what to leave out well past the sorbet.
I had just settled down for a nice little nap
On my commodious couch before afternoon tea
When Raymond burst through in an extraordinary flap
And upset my prescribed-for-detectives routine.
At twilight
the winter day wanes.
In the valley
the blue mist descends
like a blanket
on the trees.
I strain to see
the crepuscular wanders
of nimble deer
bereft of light
and fear.
DP Photo Challenge: Landscape
This Jolly Beggar 