Someone told me once,
that they Wished God would speak to them
And as cynical as I am,
I managed to repress a smile,
God does not speak?
Surely my god is not the same
For its songs are heard on high
Winds and deep beneath the
Middle earth and the gush of
Peaceful waters fill my mind
With a thousand things that
I have meant to say.
But mostly I hear the spirit
Cry in the screams of a dying
Plant crushed below clodden
Feet and branches snapped
To make travel easier.
I find my god's beauty in a
Fading leaf and its wisdom in
A rock, and still I can feel its
Pain in the negligence of those
Of us who would rather
Play ping-pong.
My god has granted to me an
Enchantment, for time is of no
Essence to me, the love and
Respect for the Mother Earth is
My past, my present, and my future. |
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