He spent his lifetime chasing rainbows, All the colors, bright and bold But the years of stormy weather, Left him lonely, gray, and old. For the sun to make a rainbow, There first must be some rain, For the soul to be forgiven, There first must be some pain.
Judge not the book you haven’t read. Your conclusion may be wrong. The bravest of the armies May not be so very strong, For when the battlefield is littered With bloodied bodies of our youth, There is still a final chapter, And that chapter holds the truth.
The sun shines bright and warms us, Then it hides behind dark clouds, Skies overtly ominous Suggesting funeral shrouds. He sees the remnants of a rainbow, Fleeting, fading fast, Strains his aged eyes to see it, And he prays his faith will last. Phil Lindsey 2/11/17