The many faults.

Laying by the road is a still silence

But for the distant thunder come I the first and last

I am of the beginning and I am like the late autumn leaves

I have become the age of wit that creates way in the darkness

I am but for the brittle leaf turning a new life that light grants

Life’s privilege the resurrection a new leaf in life’s dark passage 

Reaching out and into the land where the distant thunder raised

Is all but spoken for to that of our sacred ends speaking our belief’s 

Kept in books prayers and deeds.