Sitting on the canopy, I see the cascade beneath
The acreage, bread, essence, and the mortals ebb by.
Tucking my hands inside the sweater, folding my feet,
I look at the people, eyes crammed with fear and their lips cry.
I stare at the angry clouds,
asking for sympathy.
Halt, we can not survive this apathy.
I ask for compassion, oh dear all-powerful
Insulate us from your wrath,
Guide our senses, ride us on your path.