Path by the Creek
free to wander, arriving almost every day
by the blooming of the fallen tree my dear friend.
A lonely walk path leads to a looming bridge into the
forest, with gardens of moss, casting moving
shadows which are interrupted by the deserted
quarry.
It's history to me, regarding my ancestors traveling hundreds
of miles, to gather the point of an arrowhead and
the will of survival, nothing lasts forever even
the future we want. Almost always better
to build than to wreck.
It may be that our natures exist to grow sterner
and more hard, and the freshness of their stories.
From a purpose true and brave; Better is the storm above
then the calm of the pine.