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.