Swaying in the wind,
Known to it for years beyond life itself.
Watcher of all alive and dead,
Virtually immortal,
Always there.
It has been burned by fire,
By the hands of nature,
And by the hands of men,
And yet it survives,
To see it all.
Men who spilled their blood across the pastures,
Men who’ve grown to rupture and destroy,
But also Men who’ve nurtured and cared for the ground,
Men who’ve built by creation,
And not by destruction.
Oh, eternal blades of the ground,
You’ve seen the short history of men,
Forever changing the world you oversaw,
Faster than they’ve appeared.
Do you resent men?
Do you wish for their guidance?
Do you pray and hope their inclination towards good,
Outweighs their desire for evil?
What lessons do you hold for nature’s most unnatural?
What blessings must you bestow upon them?
To know that they are not to be self-contained,
To know they must open themselves, before collapsing inward.
Sit with me,
Entangle your fibers of life with mine,
Fill me with the wisdom of ancients,
So that we may lead our world to salvation.
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