Sunday, July 24, 2011

A Weird One


Tremendous pressure, life.
More than anything else
It breathes steady, sure
Of each pulse, and
More than willing to
Keep right on going.
We strain to appease,
To remain worthy,
To walk in favor of such
Wisdom without time.
Am I doing it right?
The Mountains refuse
To say, but maintain always
That majestic smirk,
High above we breathers
Of air, smug in the knowledge-
Such speed as theirs precludes
Concern of how much longer
And this is bound to work.
Stoic and eternal in the rearview
Mirror, they stretch, confident and
Without need, immobile and

Within the hollow of an ancient
Tree, catching rain water as
It drips from spiders' webs,
Huddled and secure, the moss
Forms against my skin as I
Sit, free to wonder among the
Insects rich in protein.
Outside the ground rolls
Smooth with each steady breath.
My own chest expands
In synch. I work to understand
And continue as I am,
Confident and without need,
Alone and without pressure,
Living and breathing, sure
Of each pulse, sure
Of only that.

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