Nature is a deft geologist
That knows the what’s and where’s of hiding treasures
But ruthlessly shrewd and just
In bestowing them as well.
It never heaps them all in one place
Nor deprives any place without
In a strange undecipherable algorithm
Tucks each place with one of its riches.
In a benevolent heart it hides
Springs of eternal kindness
In serene eyes it rests
Spells of healing looks
In an Enchanting voice it forges
Secrets of soothing, sans balms
In the silken touch of a healer
Stacks essences of exotic medica.
Touched by unexpected kindness,
A serenading saintly look,
An elevating vibrant voice,
Or, smooth sensation down the spine,
What rolls down our eyes
Are not tears …
(They are shed by mean, plaintive mortals
To hide faces in undeserving pity)
But fulgent aqua fontana …
Are veritable ‘sublime’ eerie riches.