What counts is the sun,
The moon, the stars and the sky,
The rain, the green grass, the trees,
Birdsong, windsong, childsong,
And water lapping on the shore.
What counts is compassion,
Quiet and respect.
To watch and listen in wonder
And to let things be.
What counts is not to pick the flower,
To add to our possessions
No matter how many lives we condemn
To slavery and darkness.
What counts is the spark that shines
In the limpid depths of a child’s eyes
Of all the beings that share this earth
The spark of life and love
That blazes warm and slow, eternal fire
For those with eyes to see.

