Life,
creatures of mud,
singing and dancing,
atop of a sunflower.
It's gracious, or crude.
Crude it is.

What have we seen?
Only the gracious?
What have we done to the crudes?
Endust them?

Have you seen a dust in the air?
It's our real value,
a small yet to be *****,
against this dusty place.

We are all dust!
Then what?
See the smallest dust particle!
Value him, could you?

We, have truly...
Truly have dusted the lowly and crudely.
We, have been too macroistic (only loving the big ones).

What could have we write,
in little ones?
Wonder to be him,
we learn to caress the kneels.
Oh, what an amendment!

Written in nobody.
Yet to be loved! Be loved!
For the kneeling ones!
Honor the peasants!
See high against them!
Oh, what an amendment,
written by our vague quills.

For us?
Love the leaf,
the branches,
and the plain wood.
Love them.
The same as you do.
Do what?
Love. Love what?
The golds,
the rubies,
and the silvers.