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.