The trees’ roots wind beneath the grass.
Grass so perfect,neatly mown.
In roots entangled,serpents mass
Beneath the fruit trees which now groan.
Another,darker world beneath,
Where the roots stark homes do give
To tiny creatures which there seethe,
Where all our darkest shadows live.
From here a serpent malice took
From our neglect what we hate.
We see the surface , do not look
At what lies deeper ,till too late.
And so we live, both deaf and blind
To the depths of our own minds
How my heart sings 