CYCLES
We live with lots of
cycles
Always going round;
Ending with
beginnings,
A
circles often found.
The day begets the
night.
And the spring will
come each year;
The night will end in
morning,
And noontime soon
draws near.
We are born and soon
will die,
And we're probably
born again;
At least we have our
children,
A
revolution with out end.
Even in our heart.
Are subtle swings of mood;
Tied in with our
biorhythms,
In
and out of tune.
Through birth and
death, and all the seasons,
One thing stays the
same:
The eternal cycles of
existence,
In Nature's circle
game.