The Big Think

This is a forest ever green,
A wood no killing frost can ever bare;
These leaves may fade, but in between
The life is there.

This is a graveyard, but instead
Of death, it’s life, to seeing eyes;
When hands unclose these tombs, the dead
In glory rise.

This is a journey; from this door
Lead many roads with many inns;
Each yields, in measure, joy before
The next begins.

This is a battleground, and grand;
The mighty strive to win the Field;
And much depends on who shall stand
And who shall yield.

This is a city that will last
Until the time when time is gone;
No bodies die until they’ve passed
Their own seed on.