And I shall be of substance now
for thee the flowers inside eyes.
When life ends to display its wrath,
the ground waits for to spout.
I shall kiss from dirt the time,
where people cease to walk in dark.
Where essence it still lives beyond,
the rustling of the trees.
I do bow in thought of leaves,
that for a time must die as me.
To crumble as flowers perish,
to reinvent new style.
Yes, in moment sadness comes,
to see great life fall to the ground.
But then I know the truth is told...
it will next season grow.
Cry I shan’t for death of plants
that all have their life span as me.
For yes we all are one in same
in grace of God's sweet song.
Jan 2, 2020
Jan 2, 2020 at 9:07 AM UTC
And I shall be of substance now
for thee the flowers inside eyes.
When life ends to display its wrath,
the ground waits for to spout.
I shall kiss from dirt the time,
where people cease to walk in dark.
Where essence it still lives beyond,
the rustling of the trees.
I do bow in thought of leaves,
that for a time must die as me.
To crumble as flowers perish,
to reinvent new style.
Yes, in moment sadness comes,
to see great life fall to the ground.
But then I know the truth is told...
it will next season grow.
Cry I shan’t for death of plants
that all have their life span as me.
For yes we all are one in same
in grace of God's sweet song.
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