The Stream of Life (a poem of inspiration)
Beneath the ice, fed by flakes of snow,
Our stream of life, does so ebb and flow,
Its waters are swift, and not ever to drift,
In depths below, as cold winds blow.
Long sheets above, to shift and shove,
With warm sun's light, they glimmer so.
The things we do, to come and go,
All well hidden there, in a frozen glow.
As Spring awakes, with rosy cheeks,
The freeze to thaw, as warmth all seeks,
Swift moving rills, from brooks to meet,
A widening run, in the rolling creeks.
Our own lives to flow, to move as fast,
Every word and line, is before us cast,
We must each to live, our best to give,
Living for now, and not in the past.
The stream of life, so cuts like a knife,
Each wound a slice, throw of the dice.
We take the best, to leave the worst,
Make the most of life, in our giving, first.
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