As the sun warms the needle’s glow,
And awakens everything God made,
I look upon the brook’s crooked flow,
And wonder why life is this cascade.

Tumbling through rocks, thus the human soul,
Perchance the happening that it become pure,
God has made this his purpose of holes,
So man might find the end to his blur.

Then a leaf falls from the autumn-struck tree,
It falls to the ground to it’s earthly seed,
All in one, an epiphany,
That once man falls, he must be heed.

As man wonders this Earthly obstacle,
He knows that the one to fall and stay, is the fool.