Golden grains of sand in an hour glass truly our days are measured but we don’t measure
Properly this is obvious we only look at the outward stature we can describe in detail the
Features and we seem to think that is sufficient but when loved ones pass then the falling spray
Of star dust mixed with gold and silver flakes touches our mind as a gentle secret storm then
We pursue after them in wonder getting more bogged as we go because now the glory
Intermingles with the star dust gold and silver flakes we tremble in awe who was this person
Really that lived among us this was never occasioned in my mind they walked with the clay
Mantle of the human body the light the glory the spirit the soul all the elements of heaven they
Were the manifested thoughts of the creator they blazed they streaked against common skies
They were a work of art someone to study truly the blessing never stopped flowing it rose and
Fell was caused to recede many times when the idea was to fill the floodplain to over filling
Abundance was being offered but without intensity of true vision you walked on by enrichment
That was to be your blessing the conduit of heaven opened so wide but all you could see was
This end that was all earth and no heaven sadly when these sources of blessings part sorrow
Arrests the casual heart and causes it to address large issues the telling is wave after wave is
Crashing ageist your soul this still occurs after many days their treasure is given out of time to
You a time of digesting has begun their course at birth was set it was the bi-level life of earthen
Body that made up a generous portion but by no means was it the essential or the greater part
Riches covered them from above and from beneath a mist rose to obscure where it is often said
Life is senseless yes when you bare throughout the days the wrong views and trust by only
What you can see Henry David Thoreau said most men live lives of quiet desperation and go to
The Grave with the song in them yes it was a song they had from heaven to sing its refrain
Haunts the days that are empty and continue with want in them that are released at long last
But only a faint whisper that is carried away by the wind learn well change your understanding
To truth what music will be earths blessing not valleys filled with silent regrets but the booming
Boisterous voice of our spirits that join in unison with those riches that is always in perfect
Harmony just missed by a people that are looking but not questioning with a heart of spiritual
Hearing  or seeing