Behind the songful thicket

where fields tuck in to ancient earth,

the tiny birds sing thanks to birth

 

trod and turned by boot and plough

much goes unseen by humans now.

 

Beyond the foamy edge

where breakers roll on timeless sand,

the wilding wind knows no command

 

stamped, then cleared by men and tides.

whose howls are drowned like griefs lost cries

 

beneath the thinning soil

where darkness bears no fear to life,

the crawling universe is rife

 

stained and spoiled by poisoned plan

yet still they toil in spite of man.

 

Between lost degrees

where all worlds meet,

we close our eyes and still our feet

 

that none may see and none may go

where harmony might fledge and grow.