Strolling in a Wooded Landscape, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Life as in Death is ever waiting to see
Not really knowing what is to be
Stopping to think is this really me
Will there ev’r be an answer to my plea
Am I living a dream within a dream
Being honestly knowing what things seem
Staring, wondering is my life beseem
Is it possible my soul to redeem?
Were I a mere ant scurrying onward
Never able to speak a single word
My inner most thoughts never to be heard
Would I some sort of penalty incurred?
Shall my worth be measured by word or deed
If deed from this body I must be freed