An Age Old Problem
The crimson color of the dying leaves
Remind me of when I was there: in relief.
I watch the colors float off the branches
And the clouds are perfectly fluffy.
The creator of all this fashioned a thought
Leading to that of an experiment.
Until at last, humans watching this
Could feel at least a fraction of wholeness.
In truth, the mastery of beauty in the world
Was and is the true work of Divinity.
But yet we are still here
Left to bask in the perfection therein.
Furthermore, we know that although
Some are still depressed and oppressed.
This is an age old problem
One with which we have dealt.
How can one be so sad
In a world filled with such beautiful things?
Colors, people, places, and monuments
Are just some of the additives, factors.
Man was given this freedom,
So the problem will continue to age…
Copyright 2014 Isaiah M. Williams
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