Poetry

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Vanity of vanities,
We have too much vanity;
With so many charities,
Does not help humanity.

What does any man to gain,
By toil under the sun;
Since it causes so much pain,
Of hard labor to be done.

Generations come and go,
But the earth stays forever;
As time continues to flow,
Hesitates not nor sever.

The sun rises and goes down,
Hastens to where it will rise;
Just as smiles make a frown,
Wisdom can spiritualize.

The wind will blow to the south,
Continuing to the north;
God blowing out from His mouth,
Returning as it goes forth.

Around and around the wind,
Its circuit the wind returns;
That seems to be disciplined,
The velocity it earns.

Streams flow into the rivers,
Rivers flow into the sea,
As the water delivers,
A life that is flowing free.

Things are full of weariness,
That a man cannot utter;
Eyes never will see to bless,
As his lips seem to stutter.

The eye is not satisfied,
Nor the ear filled with hearing;
Even with the crucified,
Some are still not God fearing.

There is never remembrance,
Any of the former things;
But start to have reluctance,
As to what the regret brings.

Copyright © 2019 Richard Newton Sherrer

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