When all I strive for rests before my feet
and gathers dust like books upon a shelf
when all material things seem complete
Then I will strive for meaning and nothing else
when it means less to hold life in my hands
than watch it growing on a spreading tree
then I will write my life in shifting sands
and watch the wind blow as it disagrees
nature does not wait for our consent
we are part of it – not the other way
while mastery of the soul is our content
nature stands one step beyond to watch us play
and never stop one moment to resent
claiming just to master what we survey.
Written October 15, 2012