Idle thoughts are the chaff of the mind – with wind soon scatter,
Rein in the chatter.
Need for a hearty laugh had often made me cry,
A lifelong boondoggle try.
Tilt the water pitcher and let the river flow
Lest tears from my eyes slow.
Gather all the dark clouds in the sky,
Storm over a desert most dry.
Only the promise of an unyielding tomorrow
Lessens today’s sorrow.
I walk on my head,
I falter, I stumble and fall instead.
Seize the spirit of ethereal grace of twilight,
A soul’s lonesome flight.
The old man with the scythe catches up to us all,
Until we fall.
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