I sit on grass, a heart shown on my sleeve,
and contemplate our vulnerability.
How many, strong and faithful, must I leave —
those crowds who say they love me, cherish me,
who want the ever-best I can receive?
I know that every one of them must be
abandoned, left, detached from … Undeceived
by how I’m thanking them for giving me
attention, love, and care, we’re all relieved
by goodness and its reciprocity.
We’ll soon be thinking in a similar way —
lightened by an overbearing love —
right then we will not call it that — we’ll say
this is compassion — of Earth, but above.
Author: Damian Robin