In Terra


the silver spider's splendor
(and all for you)
she labors through the night

a measure of wheat
a measure of grain
the measure of a man is his progeny

a measure for time
a measure for light
the measure of you and your wife

oh, leave us be now
leave us be
(let us alone to do our work)

there is nothing but this work.


the hewn history is wearing away
runes written in living rock
the wind and rain dew and snow

efface our past each moment
(so we rewrite it)
and it is fate to be repeated

but your tablets are not made of stone
they are fragile memories
how easily lost; your history

© 2004 by daniel ml. All rights reserved.