You're so right and it really ISthe little things:
Crush not the fragile flowers
In over-zealous passion,
For love with haste may overlook
The spelndour of the leaves -
And love of flowers just deceives.
And love of ostenation is
A thing without perception,
Not understanding
Seeing only obvious being.
Hidden 'neath the trumpet blast,
The drums, the fire, the screaming,
Hides the beauty unseen yet -
And worldy eyes with ease forget.