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Wolf's Poetry


The tree is rooted in the soil, steady
Seemingly eternal;
Firm and solid in this shifting world
Of fear, uncertainty.

It stretches heavenward with limbs
And leaves, drinking sunlight
Reassured of future rain, it rests
Stranger to worry.

Yet even trees shall pass away,
Ceasing rains, dying sun,
Earth's mortality, the inhumanity of man
To man and God.

That which shall be eternally--
Intangible to mortals.
The truth is told within our souls. . .
Choose to live forever.

~~Erin Metcalf~~
© 1996

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