the spiders and the bees

patterns and cycles

patterns and cycles

can’t stop rain

can’t stop sun

ain’t no place to hide

but inside this pain

whatever we gain

is not what we won.

the battle goes on.

patterns and cycles,

pattern and cycles.

if it wouldn’t hurt

maybe we could laugh.

the mind ploughs fields,

the snow covers all

and we fail and fall, 

we fail and fall,

we stumble, we carry,

we carry on and on and on, 

all tries to pull us down

we fall, we fall apart,

this is the way, no

easy path to follow,

none to carry us across

we forget, we lose words,

remember silly wounds

which should have healed.

sleep once a good friend

sends us dreams, we wake

and are not awakened, 

winter has come and it

is so hard to find light

we have tried and tried

but the bluest sky

is cold and does not

colour the days

we shake it off, do tricks,

ain’t no place to hide

pattern and cycles,

patterns and cycles

maybe in spring, maybe

in autumn, maybe even

in summer we can have

a few days in the breath

and wind of God who

sent unicorns and dance

after floods and fires,

wars and pestilence

maybe this is God,

maybe we did it,

without humility

trying to rule

us and others and 

this earth which has

no other response

left but to fight back.

maybe it is God,

maybe the earth,

maybe us:

patterns and cycles

and the primeval tides

rising and ebbing

until the last one goes

back to the stars

under the sea, under

and up is the same,

the moving and turning

until we are all gone

and then maybe the

spiders and the bees

make love and the birds

sing and sing forever