The
Riddle
It
causes one to stop and ponder,
The
direction to which it's leaning
It's
neither inert,
Nor
does it breathe
But
pulses with life and meaning
A
conundrum, it is mysterious
With
much strife, we find it teeming
It's
good for the soul,
But
offers anguish,
Without
someone intervening
Answer
me this, clever one
Tell
me of that you're gleaning,
Whether
it comes quick
Or
not at all,
What
is my hidden meaning?
© 2015 Laura
Freeman All Rights Reserved
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