Just Look at the Grass in the Sun

If you knew us, it would break your soul.
Some souls broke long since, but here you are.

When you look at the grass in the sun,
You don’t ask each blade to be its own.

But a sign, a sign must mean a set
Of things that aren’t quite what near signs mean.

How is each blade of grass its own life
And a part of one wave in the wind,

While we are not quite lives and can’t act
To eat the light or blaze green as grass,

But mean to split the whole world in half,
And halt the wave, and still the long grass?

Just look at us. We nod in the wind.
To mean and not be the meant is sin.