Said the Thief to the Moon, “I’ll exstinguish your light soon,
I’ll put an end to all the light that you shed on this world in its darkened state..”
Said the Moon to the Thief, ” You know not of what you seek, you’ll doom the world to wander the night with no light to guide the paths that men seek..”
Thief: “Oh, but all the wealth in the world will be mine…
without a means of defense for all those blind.
My very existance is a race to attain wealth,
for the thief’s only loyalty in life is to the devil and himself.”
Moon: “The earth will rise up and devour all that you are.
The skies will call forth thunderous storms from afar.
When you’re dead, there’ll be no grave to remember your name.
Your greed brings your end and there’s no one but yourself to blame.”
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
– Joyce Kilmer