The gifts the Earth parades for us,
fall silently far from sight.
All that ails, she’s there to cure,
as she begs to ease the minds of many.
Yet we push and pull and complain away,
and miss the show, the majestic dance,
of wind and rain and water spirits,
each beckoning our pain away.
The over identified persona we use
to push away the hearts of those,
we declare too different to us.
And there we sit hidden within
the walls that confine and limit our mind,
preventing us from ever truly,
By Sharon Cavill