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.

 

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