Friday, April 6, 2007


I feel so insignificant,
There's not much I can do
With limbs as if by fetters tied,
Held down as if with glue.
The outside world goes daily by,
And leaves me on the trail,
As driftwood lying on life's strand,
And tossed up by the gale.

Despondency is hard to beat
When weary hours seem slow,
The mystery of this short life
I guess I'll never know.
Some folk enjoy their life in full,
Their cup of nectar drain,
While others sip the bitter dregs
That causes grief and pain.

But there is comfort in the thought
That daily on life's trail,
Thousands enjoy their journey through
'Though others fall and flail.
Life's governed by some higher Source,
And worked out by a plan,
And at some future date maybe
We'll know and understand.

September, 1950

No comments: