by M C Escher


Time races away

All traces that stay

Of Youth and Truth;

Climb replaces a pace

That has no place

For quests or rests;

Rhyme without a base

Becomes a race

Of fools for jewels.


Pain kills all thoughts

Concerning lost lots

Through any more war;

Insane have fought

As if they taught

Lessons from Life’s strife;

Cain had been caught

But they will not

Because of no mere fear.


Dead cannot say

Why they passed away

Without a soul or goal;

Fed care in no way

For those who pay

Such a price for their rice;

Reds or West may

Somehow stray

And on that day, we’ll all become clay.


Time and Space

Will soon lead to

Climb and Place or

Rhyme and Race

Unless freed to

Find its own pace.


About cdsmiller17

I am an Astrologer who also writes about world events. My first eBook "At This Point in Time" is available through most on-line book stores. I have now serialized my second book "The Star of Bethlehem" here. And to give my blog pages something lighter, I'm sharing some of my personal photographs, too.
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