Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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EPILOGUE O. 2

Rage against the odds, running
into the night, as age chases
leaving death behind, you
a pilgrim, native to a promised land
abundant harvests, lush green
warm winds bend the trees
pulling rain in from the seas
to brood ideas in watchful intent
changing scene of moods, to chart
unknown years, accumulate
yet to come, other horizons of heaven.




Jan G. Otterstrom F. 3/29/2013