I now sit under a tree
Covered in scarves of spanish moss
That blow in the breeze.
How sorrowful that we so easily forget
Or become blind to the beauty of the wind breathing,
The warm touch of the sun to the spirit,
The tranquil treasures
And hidden blessings
Of this earth-life.
Oh heart,
Learn to love every breath,
Every moment in time,
Because so fast,
The days die.
Oh spirit,
Learn to grasp for peace,
Learn to let go of the fears,
And gaze upon the glory of the horses galloping freely in the fields,
Of the sun sobbing
Through the delicate cloths of spanish moss.
Oh soul,
Learn to love it all
Before it is gone.