The world no longer listens to
the language of calm,
the language of compassion,
the cries and agonies of the
caged, distressed, and dehumanized
innocent beings…
the autonomy of the individual
branching— into the blue firmament,
the flight of free and festive
birds of this Heaven,
the telling transience of
dancing dewdrops slipping down
or disappearing at once
from the green laps of Mother Nature,
the majestically mindful unfurling
fiddleheads… battling with
the rough winds
above the flinty fissures,
the untiring support and strain
of the roots and pedicels
of the exquisitely blooming
lotuses and dancing water lilies painted
on the canvas of mud and mire,
the dolorous call
of good souls on Earth,
the slow and painful passing of
Faith and Trust,
the bellowing shade of
humanity… No longer…
does the world listen to. And,
no wonder, they no longer
understand these things.