When autumn leaves are starting to fall down,
I still see blue skies that shine ever bright.
While I lie on my lawn to try to stall
what worries follow will reveal my plight.
Although so many hours yet remain,
the Greek man told us once to “know thy self,”
and what myself I know of mind untrained
shall try to shirk work that stays on the shelf.
But here my father comes, “you fall to vice?”
And now I know it’s time to lift my cross.
I travel through the fire and the flames
I know that there exists a fear of loss.
Just as the leaves that fall, I too may fall.
My Father saves me from where men would bawl.