If I should die soon
And by die I mean my mortal body
I hope its in a vast green glade
With blades of grass against my nape
Long enough to hold me close
light enough to let me breathe
Like the aspen I want my heart to quiver
my skin to drink the sun’s sweet nectar
feel the nip of Gods cold whisper
Before the angels carry me hither
So still the tender blanket of being
Envelops the earth and all its fauna.
Its objects inanimate
In motion, nirvana.
And time it marches on in congruence with being
While one thing it passes a next will start living.
The clocks hands on time they swell and they dwindle
Keeping pace with the hearts of the friendships we kindle.
From one place to another the earth is a muscle
We Stretch it and twist it,
exploring its limits.
Knowing your own,
to some it prohibits.
So i say to you
Stop now and lay your gaze upon the nearest tree,
Does it not dance with the wind?
What does the tree know that you do not?
Why does it express its love of being in such a manner?
While many trudge on with the sourest demeanour.
I find myself lingering in perpetuity between all things, all sights, sounds, scents, and tastes.
Rolling in ecstatic union with life along the edges of all curves and lines.
Pressed gently upon the flats, bumps, bulges and cracks.
Nestled neatly at the centerpoint of all vibrations, sliding within the gaps between harmonies, seated at the sonic head of a melody.
Swimming in a world of colour, drinking it all in, beauties beverage, spitting it out, colouring my words, my actions, drenching my skin.
I am sitting in the shapes as they sit in my minds eye, the triangle, the circle, the square, the shapes that form the petals of the rose, or the leaves of an oak.
The feel of soft, the feel of hard, the feel of hot, the feel of cold.
Those too find my tongue, the texture of fruits, flavours burst in my mouth. Sweet sweet, or sweet and salty, savoury foods, some say umami.
Dipped in wet, left out to dry, a soft kind of rugged, a rugged kind of shine.