• The Course of Life
    I see the river through the haze
    Flowing steady, in the cold
    Wandering throughout the maze
    Of white ghosts and ripples of gold

    Over twigs and stones it goes
    Never pausing for a moment
    Until it reaches its final home
    Of gay nymphs and entertainment

    But suddenly its course has changed
    Forming clouds of darkened lace
    Shadows within the mind deranged
    The God that maintains the chase

    And there a baby in a basket
    Following the broken stream
    May have well been in a casket
    For no God will hear its screams.