If you but knew of your neighbor’s need

Why should the tiny fragile flower peeking from the desert doom survive?  Why should the tall eagle looking for its prey change its way?  And yet the sky and the rain and the mighty clouds do. Even eagles pause to marvel at this sign, this gift that is you.

If you but knew of your neighbor’s need, how could your feast of plenty sustain your joyous ways?  And yet this is the nightmare that haunts your nights and days.

If you but knew that which is truly, is hidden in the work of the few whom no market deems of value and no audience cares to view, this gift lost in your wishing, and yet it still remains all faithfully loving for you.

Why is the day still dark and dawning when the sun is in full view?  And why do we value not this goodness and eagerly fall for the untrue?

Are you willing to help a voice survive although its song is new? And it lasts but a few moments coming from a fragile thing far from view?  What is a little goodness worth?  And what would you do if you but knew, this stranger’s voice was grace, the reality in you?