What do we owe
When the grass no more grows
When the sheeps bleat for peace
In their luminous fleece
What do we owe
The brazen oxbow
The ritual of sound
That bubbles in the ground
What do we owe
To her or to she
But for the laughter, the glee,
The wonder to be
What do we owe
The earth or the sea
Its violent beauty
Its quiet dignity
What do we owe
Each blessed day
Each casual breath
Each reactive detest
What do we owe
For the cries that we sow
In those eyes that just glow
What do we owe
Vast Imbecility 