Fidelity Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

fidelity

The soil in the field where the vines are planted is rusty red
the mould in my hand is moist, and I feel the living pulsing wow
that will never turn stale but keep producing pleasure and
to make happiness.

To be a part of nature, unlike the religious people who think
they are in charge of fauna and fauna, and nature should bend
to their demands, a detrimental to our goodness
There are times when in a dreamy mood and wish I could see.

A higher power deity to come down and sort the mess we are
today, we are fallible; God lost his heart in sorrow, and became
a rain cloud that hovers around, ready to dampen a moment
of sunlight and contentment.