Like Things

like a new mother who in pain screams,

like a new born child crying

who in purity beams

like seagulls far inland flying

like a trickling stream

and the roaring waterfall

like the currents that ebb and flow

the tides that rise and fall

and the waves that endlessly roll

like a stone smoothed all round

and the wood that drifts ashore

like the invisible wind that whistles all around,

and the dust that always settles

like the tiny ants that abound

and the earthworms that crawl in the ground

like the heat of the sun

and darkness of the night

like the ugly cawing crows

that flock and take flight

by Hugh M. Lewis