Life is Meant for Living

Life is meant for living,
never standing still.
For even trees which grow as arrows
move the dirt below.

The barnacles in stony silence
hardened; calcified,
peep from their little shells
to catch organisms floating by.

And man which stands
as a silent picture;framed
weeping in his hands
will never see the day.

He will never see the sunshine,
or feel the cool-brown dirt.
His tears become his bars
he stands crippled;inert.

For life is meant for living
for standing straight and tall,
breathing in the air;
dancing at a ball.

Rocky cliffs feel nothing.
Volcanic ash lies still.
Inanimate,
dispassionate; forming nothing; silent hills.