Poem -
The humble
No soul has ever summoned the heavens to illuminate the footpaths of the world , it's in the nature of the Devine to shine away on both sincere and wicked .
Yes the doe is graceful , she grazes amid the tender shoots of grass . Sure footed on all matters , who has to remind her of her ways ?Â
As the torrents come like a mighty east wind , they eventually subside as mist clothes the trees and her companions. Has mere man ever commanded such a thing ? Does a voice bring and reject what it doesn't even own ?Â
The humble seek no recognition nor do they bellow to the world who they are .
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