As rotted dung gives birth to beauty's rose,
And by its action urges sweet perfume,
So, too, obnoxious fate may fertilize,
Pernicious deeds to laudatory bloom.
Life's transformations are most curious,
The soil that beds the seed, now odious,
In time, sweet loam, the home of loveliness;
And then decay and rot, continuous.
From base beginnings, then, the rarest rose
May rise triumphant from earth's excrement;
Its claim to beauty unopposed – so goes
The Way of Life with Birth and Death's intent.
From nature's wisdom we must take our cue,
Whatever fortune's fate or season's due.
Those Changing Times
Those hurting times of change the heart endures
When peril, suffering, loss, is meted out
And battered hopes all happiness obscures
And promised peace is given war-like rout,
Then to Change's change we must give hope
And season wintry sorrow with spring's song –
Though all our heart would steep itself in mope,
Decrying fate's offense and time's great wrong.
Change is nature's gift, to all Creation given,
Unfailing, ever to be counted on,
Creation's covenant, direct from Heaven,
Which, always true, is faith's enduring beacon.
In time all things will to Completion's Ends
Save Change itself which Heaven itself defends.
by E.L. Miller