On The Darkening Glade

On the darkening glade he stood
The marsh was alive with wildness
'Hoppers on their cellos
Ccrickets on their violins
In the moisture of the gathering gloom
Came the apaphany, life is all that we are made of
'Till the mountains fall into the sea
Grasses weaving lichen deep
And such a shadow green
where life began and will one day end again
In the moving swamp he sat a stump
To ponder all and wonder,
How all that grows or breaths or walks
Will one day go asunder.
Lilies growing on the dry ground here and there
To finallyrealize to his surprise
He simply did not Fucking Care.
3/13/10
3/3/10