Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
This world you value so much is just a vapor.
The human love you strive to find will die with the flowers,
And the work you do will come to nothing.

Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
All your philosophy is missing the mark.
Your efforts at understanding come nowhere close,
And there is nothing you can grasp about nature that will not one day slip out of your hands.

Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
There is more than what this world seems to offer.
There is greatness outside that of man.
There is understanding too great to name.

Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The Source of all loves you.
He gives power to the weak,
He gives His wisdom to those who seek it.
He give purpose to the toil of this lost and painful world.
All you need do is ask,
all you need to do is sit at his feet,
Call him Lord, call him Father,
And let him carry you “close to his heart.”
He has always been there,
He will always be here,
And it is never too late to come home.

Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
Has it not been told you from the beginning?
“Here is your God.”

The mountains are shy.
Though they never shrink or walk away,
and will display their beauty openly,
Sitting tall across the lake.
But you will know their meekness,
When your pictures aren’t clear
For the moment they’re caught in your lens,
The mountains seem to disappear.

These peaks will not be captured,
They refuse to show themselves
To any who aren’t willing
To get out and look themself.

March in California means t-shirts—Sunsoaked.
Dappled gold flowers, fields overflowing with bloom.
Still white clouds frozen in the blue vaults of sky  
Like ants stuck in amber, without movement or sway.
Kids flying on bicycles down neighborhood hills,
Shouting, whooping, and hollering through.
Imagining themselves on horses flying down country lanes.
Asphalt heat-shimmering,
Humidity over the grass,
Like the radiance of something that can’t help but be alive.

To grow in a setting like this,
The perfect pure paradise of climate and scenery.
I cannot help thinking—
This place has never heard of winter.