The Way is like a little bird
There perched without worry
The way is like a lily
Clothed beautiful by nobody
The way is like the rain that falls
And waters all regardless
The way is like the sun that rises
Upon enemies and lovers

The way is like a little seed
Lost in the dirt of becoming
The way is like the tree that homes
Roosting birds amidst leaves, singing
The way is like a woman
who forms bread with her two hands
The way is like the child who is
Unseen amidst adults’ plans

Dear ones, there may come a day
And may the day be real
When the gentle shall raise their hands
And the proud will kneel
Dear ones, may there come a day
And may the day be real
When the gentle shall wipe the tears
Of the proud on even soil

— by @davidbenjaminblower