Man not the less, but nature more,
Saithe not the lowly but a lord^,
And I not at all, and nature only,
Rather clutchest thorn of poison forb,
Then remain on path, and remain lonely,
And rather their canine tooth to absorb,
Prefer to stroll through ticks and toxin of
     hemlock forest,
And only the rat snake's diamonds I consider flawless,
Then their brownstones filled with horror,
Even the grey she wolf looks in scorn,
And with all creation wish their cities unborn,
Their mighty towers that mirror sky,
Only the lightning can afford,
Or the golden eagle flying by,
So let them mirror storm,
For their rallies are like rats under a hovering rough legged hawk,
Provoking much,
Or the swift^lawyer lecturing the rocks he stands atop,
Carving them away, until they split and gush,
Write a script, to heal thyself,
Better yet write a script for those you hurt,
Better to be a black bear licking your own wounds of dirt at least,
Than to listen to honking well fed geese,
And why do you boast on high, just because you can?
Look to the blue hills,
They will remain and you will never be again.

To think, this was once glacial till,
A million sabbaths to cure this ill.