Praises be to the God of minuteness.
For he expands our knowledge of worlds unseen.
Unnoticed,
And unchallenged.
Unchartered.
Courtesy of the hustling and bustling of mundane existence.

Where are we going,
That we cannot walk amongst the Fields of Gold.

What begs to be noticed,
If the butterfly,
In all its glory, and unyielding efforts
Cannot grasp our attention,
Even for a moment.

Time is precious.
And humans are meddlesome.

Nature is the essence of every god that ever was,
And ever shall be.

Where are we?
Here we are.