Time tries to beat the hungry spender,
watching stars light distant skies.
Moments lost engrossed in splendour.
flies before our very eyes.
We clutter heavens with forms of praise,
the faithful send prayers up above.
While Nature works in many ways
that scream aloud her need for love.
My soul belongs to mother earth.
My God lives in the heart of all.
His presence felt since time of birth
as far back as I can recall.
He does not preach instruct, condemn,
reward the good or punish sin.
But weights the mind of wicked men
to make shame crawl within their skin.
My God will gift me each tomorrow,
sharing need with each embrace.
Bathe and ease all trace of sorrow
Let tears run freely down my face.
My worth is less sands smallest grain,
my death will not corrupt life’s flow.
Rebirth will beckon once again.
my world around and round will go.
The end will float one weary soul,
to twirl and linger on a breeze.
To ride on earths clean breath of air.
and whisper stories to the trees.
Time tries to beat a hungry spender,
so engrossed in Natures splendour.
Roan. March 2008
Ann Beard
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/times-hungry-spender/
