Ah the glass streaks of rainbow prisms,

And looks onto auburn grass, brown raw earth,

What is it in the dirt which is so holy so pure?

Darkness- and potentiality in the cycles of the earth,

The grit, the stains, the pains absorbed in her womb,

Why do we not take care?

We think we are large and all-knowing but we are seeing shadows on the wall.

Why do we not learn from nature, from God?

Why do we pursue smoke in the air and glorify what is not real.

How do we not realise what matters?

The people, the air the fact that everything must be as is to be,

Why are all of you manic, why am I? Why have you prevented my freedom, all of our freedom.

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