The Hierarchy of Nature

It is an observation

Easily made,

Nothing exists in isolation,

Without the underlying

Premise of structure.

Even the chaos

Of an overgrown hedgerow

And the wild appearance

Of an unkempt garden

Are manufactured by design.

Their wilful appearance

Ordered by more than chance,

The hierarchy of nature

Profligate

In its playful exuberance.

Observations made

In quiet contemplation,

Whilst sitting at a window

May produce little

Excitement, but even

The random nature

Of thought

Brings a welcome coalescence

To chaos.

Days may lack focus,

But stimulation

Can be just a word

To measure the pain of living,

When the act of being

Needs more imagination.

It is well known,

Though not widely heralded

That to act is to do,

But to think is to be.

It may be that this quiet

Observation

Has more going for it

Than its lack

Of activity

At once suggests.

To hold that in mind

May improve its focus,

And lead to a degree of appreciation

That may be of greater benefit

To the equilibrium.

Days spent idling, as time slips by,

May see thoughts turned

Toward a closer

Understanding of beauty

And the nature of being.

Would that be so wrong

When we are left to measure

The days that have gone

Against those that remain.

Finding peace

In meaning,

Might be a thankless task

But one we might find

Is worth the effort

It takes.

What do you think?