Standing Tall

time is a landscape , essence is a river, flowing nearly infinite through the barren greenness of it. without dams, though many rapids, twists, and turns and waterfalls, where ones pulse races like the waters, that sparkle past the ferns trees there are, growing upwards, to the bluest ever sky the life of growing things, seeking ever up to reach, and even fly pregnantly, eager and eternal skies await, to welcome each limb, as it climbs and grows enfolding it in life, and love, enraptured in a beauty like a gods, and lovers rose giving to a rough, and often crooked mortal thing, an eternal gift of love as it grows, wreathed in leaves and bark, from the dirt to skies above down below, upon the ground, we look up and marvel, seeing a tree, but if we could open wider eyes, we would see a being up, up, up above the ground, up above the world of us, and things is a world of seeing, that time immeasurable to life, loving, brings i climbed today, a hill, to see across the river, to the other shore again, much like my heroes, exploring, always seeking to see more and there, across the river, past a dim and distant shoreline i saw a man, dressed much like me, though of darker, or maybe lighter, skin than mine his eyes were closed, and he was sitting, 'pon a soft and shaded hill with him was his wife, and family, sharing a picnic, as families will i picture him, there sitting, looking in as so few do, among the lives we live on a life and love, that reaches out around him, as even fewer, ones will give seeing, without eyes(i's) what we could see with 'em if we chose the world, and time, and people, like a book, one day will close and knowing, perhaps in time, the reason for it all is to stand among each other , standing...standing tall.