There is a poetry of repetition
of things we learn to care
the pleasantness of sunsets
dawns' that will ever be there
for we cannot imagine truly
one could be the Last
The world goes on in thought and fact
and though we fail to act to make it so-
on it will go, with mankind in tow-
reluctant or eager, it matters little
so brittle and fickle- we, noisy we
The poetry of repetition rises thus
from us to the God we wonder
cloaked in chance of happiness
a dance of empty-arms and shadow
until we truly open possibility
learn that which Life can be
gather faint verse into a song... poetry
the joy of repetition follows,
a Life-time long
Happy Birthday Jim...hdm
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