The birds of paradise,
With wings reaching free and far;
Their singing never dies,
Though centuries go afar.
Their longings are for peace,
Knowing things of worth;
Man is only what he believes,
From the day of his birth.
The forest and each leaf,
Are there for reasons too;
Some may be so brief,
Others stand longer than you.
Change of time will make,
New growth from the old;
Around the brook and the lake,
Colors we cannot hold.
Clouds will come and go,
With clearings in the sky;
Just like a breezing blow,
Suddenly - to start, and die.
Peter S. Quinn
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-birds-of-paradise/
