The gum trees don’t mind,

Nor Blue Knob,

The clouds,

The sky,

Mother earth,

There forever.

 

The birds don’t mind,

Ever calling,

Playing out their time,

Living their purpose,

In natural harmony.

 

The wind finds its way,

Without consideration,

Of wayward questioning,

And after the rain,

The sun.

 

Yet I alone,

Amongst God’s wondrous creatures,

Are wrapped tight around my conscience,

And tortured,

By a myriad complications,

In what is,

A perfect world.