by louis gander
At times abused but always used - so does he disapprove? I should have known he's left alone. Himself, he cannot move.
He cannot walk. He cannot talk. It seems he is entrapped. No working ear, he cannot hear. Could he be handicapped?
One might deduce he's of no use and futile is his time. And I can tell he cannot smell. So poor, he has no dime.
Is he distressed? Is he depressed? His life seems very grim. His name is 'Dirt'. Should he not hurt when we're ignoring him?
We pull his weeds and plant some seeds - then use the garden hose. And with a flood he turns to mud as everybody knows.
When rain has poured, we thank the Lord, that food has filled our room - then thank the sun for what its done when flowers are full bloom.
But how we hide the dirt outside - though we don't think we're mean. Who understands when washing hands that we judge Dirt unclean?
We think we know but wrath will show when we are judged by God. Who thanks that soil for all its toil when manicured our sod?
No one will thank the Dirt's low rank. We entertain with fun! But Dirt, who cares with your affairs and work that you have done?
Can we not sit and think a bit of someone we have hurt? Don't build a wall. Please thank them all - including Mister Dirt.
Apologize. It's always wise for we've all wronged someone. Let's live in peace. Let judgment cease for God's work isn't done.
Copyright 2021 by louis gander.
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