the simplicity of verdancy

A naked body, lying unattended on the field, coat taken off.

Baaaaing no more

A four-footed sheep wrecked, stuck on the sun lit shore.

For whatever reason of your banal death, the earth embraces you.

Simple.

Who are we to suppose

That we are, by all means, and in every aspects, happier than those

Heavily-furred, short-legged creatures?

With heads bending low

To the grass of simple happiness, caress their stomach

And think of nothing.

Maybe they should envy us our books, and admire our songs

Our philosophical thoughts, all night and day long

And dream to be under our tedious limited shelters.

They chew the world in which matters matter

And in which the sage, for the burden of perception, severely suffer

From the unbelievable sophistication of the ego.

Maybe they just don’t care, kept busy with their green verdancy.

Walking simply steps, taking simple nap at night,

Without  Universe on them sheds light

 Of knowledge about the simplicity of flesh, and of death

Which, for whatever reason of their noble sacrifice,

Would just swallow them alike.