Life
Part 1
Rain
Little kids like kites, drifting in the wind.
Tethered to hands of children. A drift. Even
in the storm. Rain falls like kisses from
heaven. We run through mud, open fields in rain boots and coats,
still holding our strings. The kites do their thing.
Sliding, skying, and even diving in the storm. There
was never terror before we were born. We weren’t
scared. Not as kids. Thunder. Lightening.
This was our play pen. Today it rained.
I looked up remembering us. Letting my skin
collect raindrops. One above my lip. This.
This is happiness.
Dear Kids
Little, little, child. Not so little. A heart.
Imagination. Laughter and joy. Brighter than the sun.
More than an adult. Run through the fields. Fingertips
tickling the tall grass. Sunlight covers their faces.
All we know is joy. Run. Faster. Reach for
a flower and smell it. It’s fresh petal scent filling your
nose. Take a deep breathe. And scream. With
child like joy. We traded parks and kid chaos for
logic and office buildings. We carry the world on our
shoulders. Together. Not letting it drop on them,
the kids. Praying one day, kids remain
kids. Bringing a love only they cherish. Our broken
democracy. The opposite of compassion. Try harder.
The kids must survive. They move humanity forward.
They are our light.
How Beautiful, it is
Trickle, trickle, trickle down the shape,
contour of my face. I love the rain. I love it.
I smile in it. As my hair, clothes, body becomes
drenched. Because this is living. This is being
alive. This is the only time. We feel this moment.
No moment has ever happened twice. Not even Christ.
Take this single experience. Rain. Snow. Summer sun.
Shadows. This is beautiful. This is living. For me,
it’s laughing in the park on a bench in torrential rain
laughing at everything I lost. What a joy.
What a joy. To feel. When everything is beautiful.
Everything is beautiful. That’s me. If I ever forget,
slap me. Remind me. It’s unchanging. Everything.
Everything is beautiful. Fight me if you don’t
believe. I look up to the sky that pours its
tears over me. Smiling. Laughing.
Soaking in as much of this presence as I can,
in every moment. This unit of experience. For all of life.
And those passed away. Especially those passed away.
Be a Tree
Trees and their branches, leaves. The first artists.
Trees understand existing. Seed planted. Roots first.
Then, up, up, up. Reinforced, strengthened. Day after
the day. And they stand. In place. Swaying with
the wind. Ought I not do that too?
Learn! Learn from the trees! In every weather. Every Storm.
They stand. Unforgiving of the inevitable
winters to come. They may lose a branch or
two but wouldn’t you if you were positioned
to do the same? Be a tree. Be planted.
Rooted. Then. Let your roots create you.
And rise. Rise. Rise.
Remembered and Erased
All of it before, does not exist.
Ignore consequence. It literally does
not exist. The path is forward.
What is behind you is nothing. Emptiness.
Walk in confidence, not to the future--- to
the next present moment. Although
there is no next either.
Only the present. Moment. The present. It’s all you
ever have. When you kissed her. That was
happening now. The brain doesn’t know the
difference. Dance to the music played by the
musings of what does not exist anymore,
then let it pass. I never not existed.
All of me is here. It’s just not there
anymore. No matter how much you feel it.
Then is now. And now are today’s only feelings.
Hug them. And let them go.
Let them go.