VIEW FROM THE GROUND

The view
From where we are,
On the ground, pushed so hard,
Oppressed, crushed unable to breathe,
Is down
Or up
And maybe blinded by our tears
We see nothing but mud,
Then suddenly,
Flowers

High up,
We cannot see
The tiniest flowers
But in our smallness, crouched down low,
Beauty
Appears
The best view greets those on the ground,
Unseen by those high up,
Gems in the mud,
Pure gold

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