- Books, Literature, and Writing
Echo in the Wilderness
The question asked ten thousand times,
and maybe more,
A falling tree, any sound to make,
upon its welcoming floor?
With no listening ear to share,
nor creature, or birds to soar,
Shall it sit down, as a whimper then,
or with a resounding roar?
Is not a rose of old, as sweet,
and not that same rose, to be,
By any color, or fragrance to greet,
and grand, for all to see?
If not beheld by any soul nor eye,
if no beauty there, to be a lie,
For is real and does exist,
beyond all thoughts, that may persist.
If a creature walks, that is a man,
is he a part of some aged plan,
Put here by God, in love, his birth,
created from this lowly earth?
If minds do think, our thoughts are real,
then a belief, there to seal,
What is to be, without regard,
despite all thoughts, or just how hard!
All creatures made, and do survive,
in the hope and faith, we do revive,
Beyond all theory and scientific mind,
a spirit bright, of the human kind.
Five billion years, a pittance makes,
it's now that counts, for all our sakes,
To make the most in every way,
and the gift so given, in this, our day!
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