hollow and brook

The deserts are fertile, the mountains are green, the rivers are rushing – with fishes they teem. The steppe-land is verdant, the marshes abound with leaves in the treetops and vines on the ground. In every valley and crevasse and nook, in snowbank and furrow and hollow and brook, are coming alive many manners of thing, from plants with root networks to insects with wings. It is not our duty to ask who or when did populate meadow and rock-face and glen, with vibrant and incessant diversity, it's ours but to praise all these things that we see, and some of them that from the eyes often hide, occluded by greediness, sadness, and pride. So up with the voices and let the tones ring, it's not so much what but how often one sings, with voices uplifted and honest and bright, alive with the Spirit both daytime and night.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥