Wake up!… You city dwellers,
and laborers of the dollar;
Your senses have been blighted
till you can no longer smell the sea,
or hear a flower.
Remove from your prisons
of freeways and mile-high towers,
or your existence will be counted
not in years, but in hours.
If you really try to look,
and really look to try,
You’ll surely succeed in escaping
from the desolation of which I cry.
Just go out in the country if I may advise;
sit in a field with the lilacs and blue skies.
Nothing will happen unless you tarry awhile,
So be not inpatient: Relax;
soon mother nature will beguile.
Let your eyes light upon the birds,
and your body feel the earth;
then you’ll hear the story of your soul,
then you will know rebirth.
You can give your all, all in vain;
so you must stop pushing
then a little of you will remain;
and your troubles may cease
‘neath a lifting fog or soft-falling rain.