As I sit here,

wasting away a single breath,

I feel inadequate.

Still, contentment is lingering near.

I suppose I have to find it.

Piece by piece, lizard scales each may represent.

The winter has decomposed, but I have always yawned in awakening each time the sun has risen,

and here blossoms the rose.

Alas, the sandspurs have died!

It seems that a sign has come telling me I have successfully tried.

While it is final that other aspects of Life have forever died,

I see yet another egret in the bright blue sky,

watching its ink-dipped wings relentlessly glide.

Once it lands, its wings are hidden,

and all seems to be mistaken as casual.

That bird may be fighting for its life, like I have once dwelled in.

Are well always, the beautiful birds.

Are pitiful forever, the hue-less humans, never meaning their words.

They never see the clouds as potential rain, only puffy blurs.

One has a mind, every last one.

Alas, they make no use of it, even if all is said and done.

Don't take them for granted, for some,

some may not be able to do so.

Speaking of which, ask yourself, but do not do so aloud, "Do I?"

Perhaps, you may be only staring at the fresh morning dew,

rather than seeing it as leftover Blessings from The Lord,

that you may never notice.

Still, He tried to reach out to you.