Everything Below the Sun is Old

A Poem

This one’s a kind of thoughtroad or blessing upon all the weddings this summer. As the heat draws to a fiery close, this is what I have written with all those happinesses in mind. My friends, be fruitful. Live, work, weep, laugh. Grow old. Die well.

The Poem

New like wheat before the harvest,
The sun is shedding his gold.
A man goes out to run his race,
Everything below the sun is old.

All one day will lie down and die,
The earth will toil no more.
Summers will cease rolling onwards,
But life will still love’s death abhor.

All life’s joy and all its sorrow
Circled in this hallowed gold
Eternal in temporal ring,
Everything below the sun is old.

Unbreakable communion-bound,
This twining, winding promise made
Shall travel down the road eternal
And find its hope to never fade.

Like sharp arrows before shooting,
New like sun before the morn:
Bless these quivers! May they soon
Be filled of arrows springtime born.

Make strong these arms and sweet these homes,
Make sure thy thoughts and right thy words,
For kingdoms built by God’s men stand,
And only good grows truly old.

Wanted to use a wedding picture, since this really is kind of a wedding song, but ended up using this. Still gets the idea across, I think.