The lion and the beaver

We humans, born of history and hope,
Born of man’s constant need to touch,
Infinity, one cell at a time and breathe,
The end of time as we first breathed,
Beginning. We who are made from star,
And space. The dust of Angels wings.
We who incredible have faced the void,
And will experience it again.
How petty have we then become?
Knowing that in our birth, our death,
We shall experience countless forms,
How then do we deny another’s life?
How do we stand in judgement,
Knowing that they like we are from,
One source, the stars, and will return,
Again, again to take another shape?
Oh petty human do you think,
The lion on Afrik’s golden plain,
Worries himself about the habit,
Of the elephant or hippo? No.
Instead he chooses to excel,
At what he is, that king of beasts.
So too the gentle beaver of the north,
Worries not what lions do, but rather,
Chooses his own path, embracing it,
He turns the course of rivers, by him,
The land is carved, and worries not,
The hue of other’s coats or who,
They chose to love. Take heart,
Learn from your brothers there,
In every form they teach you to rejoice,
In who you are in this proud minute,
Not who you should be and who,
Should be your bitch to curse.
Stand not upon the brink of night,
To howl how others got it wrong,
But show the world through living,
How you choose the path of right,
For you. And gently bless the paths,
Of others. Be gentle, kind, be genorous,
If you are called to rule some plain,
But think yourself not high. For there,
May come a day when beaver will,
Cut down some tall tree, then to flood,
Your realm and drown you within,
That torrent. All are connected,
All have worth, no one the higher,
On this our earthly home. For all of us,
Return again to cells and dust,nothing,
Only to live again through the,
Next generation of beings.
Perfection in themselves.



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