we take for granted
the birds,
the songs,
the rain that falls
in ivory and white petals
from the always silent sky.
we take for granted
our fingers,
our blood,
our right to hate
all the things which make liberty
more of a burden and less of a bliss.
we take for granted
the tears,
the dreams,
the tragedies which later make us
grow steel instead of skin.
we take for granted
our maps,
our dull facts,
our unrequited pains that lead the way
to wrath.
we take for granted
all the small things that make
life big.
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