The smallest wave says all will be as it must.
A palm raised to the sky in trust,
Desert arid lives, quenched by this giving lake,
Where beasts and man for their own sake,
Take succour, time for contemplation,
Was here not a promise of salvation?
Do we not now have this right,
To live as we will, take as we might.
We are filled with always wanting,
Yearning, thirsting, our share allotting,
Trying always for one bit more
The appetites at our core.
The match between my needs and yours,
Teeth and nails, fangs or claws,
We all must strive to keep this well
As nature sounds her warning bell,
This font is there for us to use,
We all win, or we all lose.
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