The Arrow that Flies so True (a poem of the times)
As this world to spin, and to revolve in space, about its star, all being in place,
Through countless miles, traveling afar, to resemble in turning, the human race.
Among the planets, in a circling dance, about the sun, if put there by chance,
Could this, assumption, to be our stance, a mistake, viewed as happenstance?
If our lives, a mirror, of this presumed ruse, would we then have a right to choose,
Could we each accept all, that is to be, as through telescopes, we each to see?
Every galaxy, more massive than the rest, so fuels imaginations, in its excess,
A universe of such fantasy, its ever broadening apogee, flying on to eternity,
A miracle in our plainest view, ourselves, and the fantastic bodies of me and you,
An assembly, constructed of such a fine perfection, so marvelous, is this reflection.
Every precious flora, and fondest fauna, to co-exist, as daily to survive, each to persist.
No sudden igniting of life, as our inspection, so forward we all move, in our own direction.
Our belief in a benevolent creator, in our every season, for each, a purpose, a good reason,
Those who confirm, as the faithful to maintain, there's a strength in our resolve, to explain.
A splendid life giver, as our own divine source, the life spirit, as a gift, such a powerful force,
Every single element, each atom, and its domain, beyond all cognition, is so ours, to retain.
Straight as an arrow, truth flies to the heart, as seen before our eyes, we're each a fond part,
Not as seen, relative, or as vague, in its explanation, but it to be so, without any persuasion.
We are created by a benevolence, a spiritual life giver, and by this testament, ours to deliver,
A purpose for everything, nothing lost on each occasion, our soul, so strong, in its foundation,
all rights reserved and under copyright 2014
all photographs by author 10-17-14
