If you can’t see the trees for the forest,
then walk in the shade of the wood;
it is there that your heart softly lingers
when you feel that you’re misunderstood.
Breathe pine-scented breaths while the lichen
caresses the trail at your feet;
there God’s song of welcome entices,
where breezes and bird chorus meet.
Little cloud of smoke and mirrors,
How you gloat when shadows fall to earth!
You look down your nose as fears of
Sunless skies give frantic thoughts new berth.
But I can see through your pretense;
I know the fabric from which you’re made.
You are but a wispy incense;
Sun’s optimistic smiles trump your shade!