Fine Tuning

Oct 15, 2013

Fine Tuning

Fine tuning and fine tuning,

Only to find its all made of sand.

A lifetime’s work turned to dust,

All in a moment’s breath.

What is humanity to the Hand of God?

The tides turn, pitch and roll.

We scurry like ants as the sun

            And moon go round.

All to find and gather the things

            We most desire.

As they scatter like ashes in the wind.

Leaving loved ones tender moments

For labour in hopes of earning more.

But all that glitters is not gold,

Fire destroys, wind blows down

And plagues strike.

The most precious things,

The time with those that matter

Will be what is missed most

When the hourglass runs empty.

For autumn leaves fall

And winter comes for all.

No one knows the number of breaths

They will draw.

Store up the golden moments,

Hold your child’s hand.  Hug them tightly,

For they will grow and one day soon away

True treasures worth is to raise them right.