while generations pass beneath the face of sun and rain no more to come but to remind us of what is done and passed away at last from memory and pain to grow tall like the grass where our world has passed away till old is once renewed and things that were now are reborn, like petals peaking from beneath spring snow and daffodils in the warmth of summer or pines beneath autumn stars. here and now, rememberings of once before, are all we are. how great a ghost this spirit made flesh holy in it's bone, the makers mark of something ageless the meager house of a soul homesick for god longing for it's source that sprung so long ago from the fountainheads of heaven, eternal and golden.