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