Have ever you passed a home, where vines all through had grown?
Crept through windows, garden and door, where residents resided no more.
Or have ever you seen a tree, where wrapped around like twine,
twisted, turning and ensaring thither, was indeed a great vine!
What thoughts then stirred in your mind? Do you ponder the life left behind?
For where the vine creeps, life surely sleeps; what was has been claimed by time.
Might then you consider this dear friend, for the vine itself is not the end.
Do you see it bud and blossom? That beauty might be born again.
For the end of one thing is not the end - nay - without the end there is no begin.
The last page of the book must be turned, old fields in time may be burned;
A pleasant day with the sun will set, and still time is always turning yet.
The last goodbye, the first hello, all these things we must forgo.
For to take the next step the last must pass, else we find ourselves a hapless mass.
Likewise we ourselves must die to us, lest our souls corrode and rust.
For the things of this earth are but things of dust, and them to our King we must entrust.
So when you see what the vine has borrowed, let not your heart be sorrowed.
Find joy instead, that life is not dead, and consider what lay in the morrow.
Crept through windows, garden and door, where residents resided no more.
Or have ever you seen a tree, where wrapped around like twine,
twisted, turning and ensaring thither, was indeed a great vine!
What thoughts then stirred in your mind? Do you ponder the life left behind?
For where the vine creeps, life surely sleeps; what was has been claimed by time.
Might then you consider this dear friend, for the vine itself is not the end.
Do you see it bud and blossom? That beauty might be born again.
For the end of one thing is not the end - nay - without the end there is no begin.
The last page of the book must be turned, old fields in time may be burned;
A pleasant day with the sun will set, and still time is always turning yet.
The last goodbye, the first hello, all these things we must forgo.
For to take the next step the last must pass, else we find ourselves a hapless mass.
Likewise we ourselves must die to us, lest our souls corrode and rust.
For the things of this earth are but things of dust, and them to our King we must entrust.
So when you see what the vine has borrowed, let not your heart be sorrowed.
Find joy instead, that life is not dead, and consider what lay in the morrow.
Written by Dez ~ Illustration by Kaq
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