Subsurfaced Modes Of Life
Poem By Robert T. Sanderson
As ocean tides come in, subside,
They leave strange "artifacts" on shore;
But their submerged creators hide
Their best on the oceanic floor.
The surfaced life of mighty oaks
Are cradled first in acorn nest;
Emtombed in embryonic yolks,
Before their best is manifest.
And when he, divine, to men came down,
They saw a small town village son.
This made his mission seem a sham,
But submerge, he must, to man undone.
Yes, we're concerned with surfaced fares,
And pride ourselves with mortal groom;
And little know we're regal heirs,
Offsprings of one immortal womb.
Our works are wrought in shallow art,
Because deep down, and yes, within,
Our life-style's not the same in heart,
And subsurfaced life, God did intend.