The veins of life are ne’er complete
Running ‘long a single course
There lacks purpose, there lacks feat
There no depth of combining force.
The veins that spread and twine and splay
Covering ‘er the breadth of time
There springs purpose, there springs play
There must route stretch to reach its prime.
The veins that pulse life-giving wealth
Thriving on some richer fare
There flows purpose, there flows health
There the inherent grace must share.
So too the poetry of sages lends their substance in our prime
There we reap the depth of ages coursing through a verse of rhyme.
2 comments:
Is the author of the poem one among the sages/wits/literatti of the Franklin community?
I do believe she is...or at least aspires to be. She's not as allusive as that Gylberd fellow, I have actually met her a few times.
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