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