Poem By Theodore J. Olson Jr.

Why do the seasons change?
Why does the moon change?
Why do people change?
The thought of suffering is oh so clear.
Why these people, far and near?
Who decides my place in life?
My style? My gifts? Even my wife?
The suffering saddens.
The healing hurts.
Why do they suffer, instead of I?
Does anyone even think that they can try,
to help a little or make a change?
The reality is blind and oh so strange.
The rich dont' bother, the pompous turn away,
as millions of humans suffer each day.
Civilized or not? Who can say?
The passion for life is the only way.
Make an effort, both you and I,
for we are all the same,
through God's saving eye.

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As I stand;
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I gaze at the front door during my hours of rest,
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