by Alexander Walls
Change: our somehow, sometime, supine constant.
A force as old and great as time itself,
A force to turn our worn out world, a force
Which can ne’er be avoided, nor need be.
For though we strive to conserve what matters,
Change itself cares not what’s left in tatters.
The tree which seems to stand the test of time,
Begins as but a little seed, growing
Into the might of strength, yet is benign.
It grows and grows until we need its bark,
Until disease blights its branches, until
The quite relentless force of change does kill.
Empires fall, new nations rise, leaders die.
Relationships form, prosper and perish.
In this eternity of change, some changes –
Desired or not – are inevitable.
These shifts in our lives, in our world, require
Patience. To this virtue we can aspire.
Although change can be swayed, we find
To our fates we must be resigned.