I Pity Them

There is always the earth making its treats The splendour that rises spreading all around The wind plays with the light and I hear the birds The small rivulet adjoins the ready river Today I began anew I drink my nectars blazing over with awe it is 4AM where the devils and angels jockey each other for Ascendancy I pity them Hexagonal snowflakes pour over me I am in a quandary I write myself over I am no longer afraid Let the people carry on the best they can do behind closed windows