Our Only Certainty
Donald P. Goodman III
In spring new life arises, splendid, green, and young; in summertime it flourishes in summer's ray; in autumn it remembers, its past glories sung; but in the winter it must die and pass away. So go all living things; not least so goes mankind; we're born; our parents cherish for us futures bright; but as the years progress, our hopes we leave behind; before long, old and broken, we close eyes to light. So why should fleshly things so often hopeful be? We're born, we live, we die; have we all lost our sight? No man enslav'd to death can ever say he's free; All things will pass away: our only certainty.