There is a complexity in
all things but
it requires patience:
the texture in a
blade of grass does not
shout at us,
the song of a common finch
is unremarkable to
busy minds,
and I doubt that
very many conversations
have abruptly ground to a halt
because of the
idiosyncrasies of a
random cloud

What is wise is easily humble;
and natures already
ancient before
the dawn of human wonder
are often content
to be stepped on, blotted
out, or otherwise ravaged by
our indifference

But if you can
go somewhere and
be alone and
accept
meaning without purpose,
they will whisper their
secrets to you
in an unfamiliar language of
unfamiliar clarity