The day is young, my body old
No one cares to hear my anguish
The storms I’ve been through
Are of no concern as everyone
Has a story and to fail and harvest
From failure is experienced alone
Growth is mind and spirit
Does not have to be lonely
But often is because everyone
Has their own vineyard to take care of
Plant, cultivate, prune and watch
Muck like a shepherd over sheep
The seasons may strike us down
Or we may win awards and
No one cares and no one cares
We came into this whole being alone
We will leave the same way
Most will never know
The entry or the exit so
Our tales of victory or defeat
Will be owned by the astute,
Though others will make a claim
Under false pretense and
Wave a flag for a few moments of glory
And then it is all over
I say to learn from those
Who empty themselves for others
They know the cross
They know we are dust and
Into dust we shall return
Stanski
September 4, 2025^
Steve Haarman 