What God or gods will hear out our tale to the very end;
We drone a tune on and on not even we comprehend.
The dull pain of stone is a song locked away in granite
That groans for ten million year though we have forgotten it.
How the green hand reaches for the sky with tremulous finger,
With face buried deep in dank earth with mineral hunger.
Worm crawls and crawls in black earnest to find the light;
(Komodo dragon, your spit is the apotheosis of fright!)
Fish sob with longing only when writhing for water’s arms,
And bird laments for rose only when dark conceals her charm.
Animal grunts with gross pleasure, and monkey is all smile
At man’s gesticulation full of chattering denial.
Darvish looks around, and wonders what God or gods can hear
Our ancient cries caught in the throat clamoring with fear.