Recurring Patterns

Nature is old and wise
And knows that change is slow in coming.
Yet man is young and foolish
And has no time to allow

Man's empire is built in a season
And falls in a blink
So short is his life, that
He works feverishly in his labors
Lest he never gaze his fruits
Still so impatient.

What happens today and tomorrow
Has already happened yesterday
Patterns recur in history
And man is reborn
Along the same.

The true progress is made in time.
Nature knows this.
Man may learn.

Nothing truly changes
Save slowly over endless iterations.
Man is subject to fate's cruel trick,
Never able to see end results
Nor the writing in his soul
That eternity is here today.

The soul of mankind sings its same song.

Patterns emerge and express
A song
A tree
A cloud
A bee
A continent
Me.

All we are has always been
The stuff of stars
But the order and pattern distinguish
Plasma from psychopomp.