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Ole Father Time

Once again, Ole Father Time

Has harvested yet another year.

His sickle sweeps clear the old calendar,

And another allotted time does appear.

 

With renewed high hopes and aspirations,

We again march toward our goal.

Determined to keep our resolutions,

We assume our newly-formed role.

 

Hoisting our banners high,

The new challenges we gladly accept.

Through this new time period,

We’ll strive to be adept.

 

Should we fail or falter,

One thing is crystal clear,

Ole Father Time waits patiently,

Honing his sickle to reap another year.

Decay

This thought comes from Autumn Leaves:

Outstanding is simply good, yet no one’s upset or mad.

Good is mediocre, and mediocre is simply bad.

High aspirations, in reality, are goals set low —

Meaningless once achieved, and so the story goes.

Life

These thoughts come from Autumn Leaves:

 

The marvel of life…

Like the unfolding petals of the rose,

Awakening to greet the first warm rays of the morning sun.

 

The marvel of life…

Like a microscopic speck mingled in the cosmic dust of the universe,

Dawdling and dancing to the muted dreams of eternity.

 

The marvel of life…

Toiling unceasingly with the aspirations of its gender,

Gathering the wisdom of the ages, dreaming the dreams of by-gone eras.

 

The marvel of life…

Growing hot, waxing brighter in the pursuit of achievement,

Yet, when suppressed and thwarted constantly by unknown forces,

Flickers and finally dies.

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