POETRY FOR SEEKING MOTHERS

WEEP NO MORE

Indeed you are old

The passage of time has rolled over you.

In your thought you are buried

Though you live

 but your mind is gone.

Your bowels lie beneath

And your conceit above the mortal

Money you do not seek

Cloth you do not need

Your needs far from man they lie.

You look at thy make

And hope in mortal for unfolding joy

disappointment you ever receive

You resign into weeping

That gives no joy.

You are old

Yes, you are old.

lost in hope

chastens, disdains and mocked

And tears tender no help.

Mortals your mockers are

for fortunes fly like sparrow

filling the space vacuum

though today you weep;

tomorrow you weep no more!

Your bowel with joy shall fill

your tree its fruits shall bear

like the sky in the sky;

your joy shall know no bound

and your home with grains of children!