These leaves have fallen so many times

and yet sprout green, fresh ones,

every spring, the next year,

only to shed themselves, every autumn, the next year.

These days have vanished so many times

and yet get born when the sun shines,

anew, on minutes new that grow into hours,

only to fade away into a darkness of hours.

These waves have waded so many times

the shores, that are full of sands

and feet; but go back, they do, with nary a hiss,

only to wade in again, with more shells.

These birds have flown so many times

looking on at the same skies and heads,

but fly again, they will, the same skies

till the toils of the day rest them, in their nests.

These men have walked so many times

treading and bruising the earth, with a purpose

bearing a scent of money and the family's happiness;

anon, to pass into the dreaded mire of nature's designs.

These words have been written so many times

and yet they tell, each new time, different tales

sometimes of the corrupt, the good, at other times

until more news change the order of these words.

These lights have shone so many times

at times, showing the way, for dances, at other times.

Marked the wayd, they do, too, for ships

but none, yet, has dispelled the darkness of the nights.

These prayers have been sung so many times

each year in a different tone but always

before classes and Gods, and awash are the kids

when they sit down to take on their studies.

These laughter have rung out so many times

as if joy is forever the order of things,

but each betrays the other with the regular cowardice,

of an old couple, when unhappiness strikes.

These hearts have beaten so many times

one for the beloved, the other for happiness,

but each, in the depths, knows

each's beats, shallow or strong, always ceases.

These music have been heard so many times

sometimes jarring and sometimes melodious

but so enduring, that even the travails of time and gory mishaps

have not subdued their echoes in our hearts.

These countries have fought so many times

sometimes over borders and sometimes with guns,

always spending millions, over non-issues, but wars

unlike battles will not cease as long as there are countries.

These fingers have bent so many times

sometimes caressing, pointing, at other times,

but twitching or, twiddling other fingers,

they remain the extended brushes for many, more touches.

These eyes have seen so many times

the blue skies and whiffy clouds,

but more images, only make them more intense

with hopeful yearning, until enough makes a daze.

These winds have blown so many times

scything grass tops and skidding on roads,

banging doors shut and swirling skirts,

swaying trees and whistling tunes, but flying away without a fuss.

These bread have been eaten so many times

at times, in hunger, out of necessity, at other times,

while for many it is the unseen treasure of treasures

that many die for; but live, too, because of it, do, so many others.

These coins have clinked so many times

at times, inviting the skulking robbers,

inviting a gleam, at other times,

but make the same sounds, they do, even in temples.

These thoughts have passed by so many times

why so many stars and whereto they hear towards

why the days, why the scriptures and, why the haze

that keeps the most desired knowledge from all of us.