God Bless the Grass

May the Circle be........broken!
May geometry be overcome
by roots, small tufts of grass,
naively brave small fingers
wiggling through.
Again, the thought came to me in different costumes today, peeking out from a quotation on A Word a Day, in a picture of a circle mandala that was not a perfect circle, roots and leaves penetrating geometry's idea of perfection. And a song
God bless the grass that grows thru the crack.
They roll the concrete over it to try and keep it back.
The concrete gets tired of what it has to do,
It breaks and it buckles and the grass grows thru,
And God bless the grass.

God bless the truth that fights toward the sun,
They roll the lies over it and think that it is done.
It moves through the ground and reaches for the air,
And after a while it is growing everywhere,
And God bless the grass.

God bless the grass that grows through cement.
It's green and it's tender and it's easily bent.
But after a while it lifts up its head,
For the grass is living and the stone is dead,
And God bless the grass.

God bless the grass that's gentle and low,
Its roots they are deep and its will is to grow.
And God bless the truth, the friend of the poor,
And the wild grass growing at the poor man's door,
And God bless the grass.
.....................by Malvina Reynolds
The mandala reminded me of Da Vinci's man. And the reminding reminded me that everything reminds me of everything, because everything earthy is outcome of the same fractal geometry, or of the same lively grasses, constantly risking absurdity.