The secrets stilled by the forces of nature, everlasting
Circumstances of bliss, notwithstanding the confusion
Prevailing in an otherwise ordinary existence of ours
Can we ever know of these wonderful secrets?
Whilst playing with mud on life's busy playgrounds
And then calmly prosecuting nature for trespassing
On our varied paths of dull destruction and hatred
For no matter how much we forsake our Mother
She'll still joyfully bear the burden of our trample.
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