I traverse the wild fields
Amid array of thorn and barb
Simple beauties shall reveal
Pick off the burrs
Let the scratches heal
Amid array of thorn and barb
Simple beauties shall reveal
Pick off the burrs
Let the scratches heal
A perfect world
Constructed with ruthless precision
Would be far too mundane
To provide the challenge
Which offers existence
Meaning
Nature and time
Eat away
At rings
Of hidden time
The history
Kept by nature
But the years of consciousness
I could count
In just an afternoon
And my own years
Rattled off in seconds
In the vast pre-history
Of consciousness
This beauty unremarked
But do my remarks
Or those of others
Make the beauty so?
Like discovering the harmony
In discord
Like finding the order
Underlying chaos
So that all the world
Alien and familiar
Becomes more beautiful