Do we not see?
Why are we so anxious?
Have we no room to breathe?
Do we not know that seasons rule the flowering of the seeds?
Do we not see how every tender, leafy shoot
sprouts only when supported by a bed of nourished roots?
Were we not told how every single tiny blade of grass
Surrenders to the rains and howling winds that come to pass?
Have we not marvelled as hatchlings chipped their eggs when good and ready?
Did we not then weep for worms who helped those chicks grow strong and steady?
Did we not watch them flutter, trying bravely to take flight,
while garden cats awaited them below, as though by right?
Do we pour blame upon the bird who flies too soon,
and falls to its own fate, watched only by the silent moon?
Do we deride the blade of grass squashed mercilessly down
by feet that trample on it?
Does the blade cry, or sulk, or frown?
Do we applaud, then, the daisy that blooms brightly toward the sun,
while others drop their petals, their blooming days all done?
Do we label one of these events superior to the other?
Do we applaud perceived success, while perceived death makes us shudder?
Can we not admire and observe our very selves
like leaves and shoots and daisies -
Alive by some mysterious spell?
Created by an energy that we leave unacknowledged…
We weigh down our minds as though theirs, only, is the knowledge…
We ignore our wise bodies as they see us through our day…
We forget that our hearts are here; our spirits long to play….
Are we too afraid to face that which we truly are -
Just a single speck of pollen, just one of countless stars?
Are we fated to be stuck in worry about what’s yet to come,
and steeped in sorrow over what’s passed; what’s said and done?
Do we even see at all, as life unfolds quietly,
while we dance and spiral in the ballroom of anxiety?
I do not have the answers, but take solace in the wondering
It reminds me I’m just one part of a world alive and thundering,
One grain of sand within a universe electric and pulsating,
Part of a life so beautiful, I cannot keep it waiting.
I must go on now, back to life – these words are just a fraction
of the energy that flows through me with every living action.
And as I go through this glorious gift I call a ‘day’,
I’ll think of blades of grass when I slip and lose my way;
I’ll think of hatchlings who barely knew of life outside their shell;
I’ll think of living thankfully,
which is, really, living well.
