Outlook Poem by Bill Cantrell

A glass that is half empty?
A glass that is half full?
Through the hourglass of focus,
we lack or wish for more

On the mirror of reflection,
we choose that for which we long
Who's to say of which is which,
or who of who is wrong?

While the left hand is tight fisted,
the right is grateful for its bread
And peace is where his tent is pitched,
for contentment is his bed

Above we have reality,
a forrest of such majestic grace
Below is also a glass half full,
a beautiful image of its face