A walk into the woods
I travel in it
I am made of it
and
it
is
made of me...
Precipitation of melancholic-drowned rainclouds
atmospheric wonder
we are made of lightning
we are sustained by thunder.
It is cataclysmic
my pulse,
raging against my ribs
inviting in the salt
that makes up the
effervescence
of stars
to find home
in my lungs.
Strong and inevitable,
like father Ponderosa
deep-rooted
solid
nested in
the earth,
feeding on wisdom
of a blanket
that never speaks in words.
Should the roots grow
into that which is known?
something haunting?
With my eyes
I shall wonder what it is I will see:
for the cornea
is structurally sound
embedded in
my lavender
miasma,
shining to the world
already green.
Much like the root of a tree
my eyes are connected
to my most internal organ:
mother earth.
The diving mist creeps
along the sullen rolling skin
like it's part of its mystery
not a hindrance of wonder.
Shutter-struck,
this is
what it is,
the trembling pulse of a world untouched
but suffocated
still
by the world
that surrounds it!
Star-gazing fields
are awake
watching closely,
a raging cumulus
moving
over head '
it
opens its mouth
awaiting heaven’s emotion.
It unravels
its skin
preparing
for
a
breath
made by clouds
Into the woods I went walking
….
I am awake
I travel in it
I am made of it
and
it
is
made of me...
Precipitation of melancholic-drowned rainclouds
atmospheric wonder
we are made of lightning
we are sustained by thunder.
It is cataclysmic
my pulse,
raging against my ribs
inviting in the salt
that makes up the
effervescence
of stars
to find home
in my lungs.
Strong and inevitable,
like father Ponderosa
deep-rooted
solid
nested in
the earth,
feeding on wisdom
of a blanket
that never speaks in words.
Should the roots grow
into that which is known?
something haunting?
With my eyes
I shall wonder what it is I will see:
for the cornea
is structurally sound
embedded in
my lavender
miasma,
shining to the world
already green.
Much like the root of a tree
my eyes are connected
to my most internal organ:
mother earth.
The diving mist creeps
along the sullen rolling skin
like it's part of its mystery
not a hindrance of wonder.
Shutter-struck,
this is
what it is,
the trembling pulse of a world untouched
but suffocated
still
by the world
that surrounds it!
Star-gazing fields
are awake
watching closely,
a raging cumulus
moving
over head '
it
opens its mouth
awaiting heaven’s emotion.
It unravels
its skin
preparing
for
a
breath
made by clouds
Into the woods I went walking
….
I am awake