The morning sun hides behind its trees.
The wind weaves with green and leaves,
a soft speckled light that avoids all sense
to root in deeper place of inner mind.
Where animus and anima have no need to know,
for this kind of knowing is just, a softer glow
suffusing everything that’s bright and right.
Human consciousness the only seer here,
the only thinker of what’s close at hand,
diffusing gods, God, nature and her bite
What responsibility to all living things
is humanity’s knowledge, will, power, plight?