Reaping

Weeping willows whip in the wind

On the banks of a river they've cried.

They drink in the mornings

And mourn in the evenings

Breathing each other's sighs.

Cloaked in their shadows a pale figure wanders

Beneath the gnarled branches of woe

With sickle in hand

He harvests their sorrow

And tends this most ancient of groves.

All You Need to Know

Wonder at the universe

And wander outside its bounds.

So much of what makes life worth living's

Intangible right now.

Earn your money earnestly

And with it break your bread.

Make your bed in a humble home

But take pride in your head.

Idle minds the Devil's playthings

Their busy hands his tools.

Doing without understanding

Is the work of fools.