The pump is primed

It’s been some time

Fertile and frantic Earth

Fertile to give and frantic to live

Every breath betrays

The stillness of mist on mountains

Even the animals

Especially the animals

Fight to survive

Must fight to survive.

And yet such sublime light

And smell of gentle forest and hillside

And lilacs scent and River and wet Earth

I am tortured by my heart and the beauty of life

Unable to touch it

It is only in writing that I can see my God doing…

And recognize my greed not as cool or vile

But as a child. Greedy for all he had been given because he knew nothing else but to be given to.

Such a child is not less for his greed or his expression, such a child… Is just a child.

I am such a child. Longing for what had always been and is continued to be given.

“I couldn’t feel, so I had to touch”

I am the lense from which the world is available.

I have no business, nor is it my purpose to declare as good, God, bad, devil… Who would I be to declare such things.

Where would humanity exist if we are all Gods?

What would happen to our children…

There is such a far way to go to be the one who appreciates the world

And I am hanging on so tightly to my declarations

For fear of what has already occurred.

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