YOU DON'T SEE . . . . . . .

You don't see the sunset - I've seen it before,
is it possible that nature could become a bore?
Certainly not - it's you who doesn't appreciate beauty,
the trees and valleys apparent between you and me.

Blase' on the day, disinterested by a starry night,
it's your mind that's dull, something can't be right;
take stock - you wouldn't be here but for your creator,
ironically, ignorance seems to be your common denominator.

You were programmed to have free will - a mistake,
it would have been better to have control, for heaven's sake;
force you to watch our brilliant sun set into the sea,
then write one hundred lines about it's mystery.

I give you a nudge, a field of flowers pass you by,
at last, recognition, it really wasn't difficult for you to try.