I ran through the grass, oh so many times!
And yet, never did I notice the millions of blades-
The millions and millions that sway together,
Each so different, and yet each, the same.
These millions of blades sway as one,
Not one sharp enough to hurt the other,
Not one soft enough to wither away.
Some long, some short, some dark, some faded,
And yet no scorn for one whose different,
Amongst these millions of blades of grass.
Why then do we say green with envy?
Why then do we call ourselves an advanced race?
When amongst this sea of green we find
More respect than amongst ourselves.
This post was written in response to the Daily Post Daily Prompt: Millions