Strange climes, volatile times,
we don’t know what might happen.
We’re looking for certainty,
looking for security,
but there ain’t none,
in these volatile times.
But look at it like this my child:
think of an earth quakes’ blind force
that pushed oceans apart,
that covered a desert in a mirage of waves,
and made a crumpled mountain chain
~ all man’s wars are puny next to this.
This world we cling to,
with all it’s joys and sorrows
could vanish instantly tomorrow.
Strange climes; volatile times.
And when you really think about it child,
this world was always unpredictable and wild,
long life is given only to the few; so many vanished through
accident, war and disease,
ain’t no security in these or any other times.
So worry not about the morrow
only see clearly, love dearly,
don’t let your mind frighten itself with shadows,
oh love the mountains and the meadows.
Don’t let harsh
words fall in the way of friendship,
and live within the day;
in these strange climes, in what we think of as these
c) Ingrid Andrew > HeartsSong