Think of life, not of its lowest of low
Whence the sun drowned the moon in its golden glow
Think not of the death of the ocean tide
Or of the plain where the stars do hide
Think of the graceful birds hugging the wind wide-armed
Gaze upon the baby that braves the wild unarmed
Behold waterfalls wherein the sun mirrors
And beautiful perfection bereft of errors
See the world through the eyes of a bat
Blind to its fault like a silly little brat
See the desert as a pregnant mother of many trees
Love the creatures even the stingful bees
