Sun moves over all things under
with no trepidation seated on an unseen saddle,
does his duty eternal forever, ponder
if shouldn't I be like sun with no concern for babble.
Moon, the beautiful lady clad in black velvet,
cries with saddened hearts at unseen nights
yet, people happy she fills the joyous goblet
moon, should I be giving each their worth feelings.
Oh! there I see the rain torrential
preying on all with no remorse or twitch,
drenching all in harvest celestial,
should I be that, living for my own gulch.
Sat I near a clear pond gazing at reflection,
and sighed to the creator's finest marvels,
pure sights of creator's perfection
no botheration of cycles of impish times.
Chosen I to be as am with imperfection,
until a day I sit in my father's presence,
chiseling on my heart without trepidation
for the eternal place in world's absence.
For although creations are flawless,
aren't they part of world imperfect?
Here they stay forever beseeching humans,
to take voyage to the unsullied paradise lost.
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