[mousepoet]: 243.mousey's Poetry.Within

Within the sky, a lofty flying bird
Within the ear, a distant cry is heard
Beyond our sight, it dips to land below
Beyond our help, its end we’ll never know

So, how to feel a call to aid the weak
When they are far away and never seek
Our gaze, on streets or passing by
Our homes, ourselves, or ask for our reply.

Their plight, a speck within the sky
Their plea, a breathless, distant cry
Their home, a land we cannot see
Their aid, a thing we never heed.

Within our grasp, we know we should
Within our minds, it’s understood
That we are small and they are far away
And the cost is one that we will have to pay

So still we waver on the brink
And watch the birds that fly and sink
Beyond our grasp, within our scope
And still they suffer on with hope.