The Path That Leads to Grief What mist enchants the forests of the evergreens? What dew its purpose spent shall fall to earth? What substance of the spirit shall now cultivate And take the soul that life has given birth? What comforts shall be found within life's garden Whenthe fruits of all our toil lays strewn and dead? And who shall tend and reap the forest's sustenance When time forms dust from flowers in their bed? Whose sorrow shall be greatest when the time comes? Whose loss will be forever his regret? Whose longing shall be comforted by dreaming When the world no longer cares - Will he forget? "My sorrow shall indeed be very meagre; For when the time arrives I'll be but dust," So say the old men in their hour of judgement When they like their machines corrode and rust. Their loss indeed shall be so very minor; As duties they'd neglected until death, Shall leave no scars until their bodies rot and Lay beneath an earth that gasps for every breath. Oh! Future sons and daughters please forgive them. In ignorance they spawned the grief you bear; Their actions built your sorrow and your heartache, And their memory is forever your dispair. May 30th, 1977 |