a.barnhurst
Along the James
Lifeless and cold the winter months come;
Dwellings become wrapped in ice and wind,
And on the outside, to the unprepared, a deadly chill.
But one can seek warmth from its cruel beatings
Another, give a portion of its fire.
And can marvel in awe, at the gentle mercy of a landscapes
fresh gleaming snow.
As its bearers wait for the returning of all things,
They find that, from its adverse conditions,
comes its own kind of beauty.
Nothing, not the riches, or praises of the earth
can surpass the contentment of the soul.
I want to laugh, really laugh
Could one not heed the warnings,
And my sympathies got the best of it.
Sorrow for the miserable, the unforgiving, the proud
Cry, cry for corruption and those that justify it.
Delusions of hypocrisy, that cloaks the misuse of trust.
Nothing can surpass the contentment of the soul.
Can't we laugh, really, really laugh
Not as ones condemned,
But rather, of ones of have wept until they walked in peace.