Mali

Decisions as to how to play
The game of life laid out before,
Come at end of day thus closes,
And weary from a battle, sore,

One rests exhausted from the trials
That cause such endless sorrow there,
And numbed of mind to reason,
All is left to swing in air.

And then, from lofty branch does fall
A hint of inspiration new,
To thus begin again at dawn,
And midst the ever present dew,

Refreshed from slumber deep and wide,
To raise above the soil to reap,
And grow a crop of crisp, green hope,
To dry the eyes as so they weep.