Holy Sparks

A poem that was written in the Autumn of 2013.

Scientist, why does your head always hang low?

Asking: why the grass is green; the ocean blue-

Do you not see the stars; lotuses glow?

I ask you now, if what you maintain is true-

Instead of telling me, can you not just show?

Or forever, indulge in such things; so few?

Scientist, how can you ever truly know-

Spending all of your time, asking nothing new? 

Firm, not on skies above, but what lies. . . below. 

Author's Note

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