The lyre has been left outside by the musician who plays in the forest,
now it plays a ghostly chain of notes as the wind blows across its strings,
Waves gently reach the shore,
as a scientist is reduced to a child gathering shells on a beach,
just mere shells washed up from the vast, infinite sea of knowledge,
The mountains stand proudly,
and many artists have wandered that way,
failing to capture the immutable forms of the eternally beautiful snow capped peaks,
An enchanting flower unfurls its petals,
as a poem unfurls its lines,
and the whole universe is contained within everything,
inside every tree are mysterious woods on which hundreds of stories of lost children and talking animals can be written,
all of us are capable of of wondering about the starry heavens above us,
being outraged by injustice because of the moral law within us,
History is just the journey of the collective human spirit,
evil ideas were conceived but they did not know the power we have, the strength we have t