philanTH-EIST-ropist

The tiny delicate blades of grass Selflessly grow o'er hills and dales, Enrich our world: enlive our breaths, Silently narrate much profound tales. The careful observants from yesteryears; Some scarcely existent even today, Listen to and learn and teach and preach These lessons, in hope for a better day! Neglectful many perceive this nature In vain, confined to six inch screens: Tap and share, we tap and share, Barely rejoicing the tune of greens.

From those dreadful days to these frightful nights, From that mournful incapacity to this woeful inability, From those neglectful spectators to these prudent observers, From that reactionary insensation to this mastered hyper-vigilancy: One constant - You, And yet all those voices You surround me with, And all those faces You ground me in, Question, sometimes Your existence, at times Your Love: Silently some days, on some others out loud! I shudder at the thought of that gradual loss of Belief, They express it right, I have turned proud.