Gaia’s Art

War and pain and death and sorrow;
how can there ever be tomorrow?
I look sometimes and wonder why
I even get out of bed and try.
But then a seed of beauty grows
and cushions me from life’s hard blows.
A gentle word from someone wise;
the joy seen in a small child’s eyes,
or morning sunshine warms my heart
and I laugh again at Gaia’s art.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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