All things have a time, and a purpose;
that’s easy to understand;
though oft that reason doesn’t surface;
but it comes about by command.
We blame many things on accidents;
though they have a purpose, too;
they’re not merely from circumstance;
for destiny can bring them to you.
All of reality’s but a complex maze;
that narrow way with so many twists;
a labyrinth, solved, in so many ways;
presenting too many outcomes to list.
Sorrow and grief are found on each path;
their tenure seems to last forever;
life often appears to be a product of wrath;
and, at times, a hopeless endeavor.
Life’s circular path is a narrow road;
it meets itself coming and going;
after so many trips; you’re on overload;
and the soul is no longer growing.
Something must happen, to gain a restart;
to break up the cycle and begin anew;
there’s more wisdom needed to impart;
only a new beginning will do.
Life is much like that rose called Love;
its petals drop off; leaving only a thorn;
the Master fashioned a solution, above.
for a new life to be; death must be born.