They ask you why you stand in the morning sun for so long,
to which you reply “It feels like a daylight loon singing her mournful song."
They ask you why you watch the birds fly,
and your response is simple, “they can fly higher than I.”
They ask you why you stop to feel the breeze,
you say that it is an opportunity that you must seize.
They ask you why you flow with the river tides,
but that’s the one thing that you take with pride.
You kiss the day with love and devotion,
like fish who swim in the vast, wide ocean.
You ponder of thoughts only you can see,
while others panic and decide to flee.
Maybe there are times, where you can’t think clearly,
but you hold those times as lessons so dearly.
Sometimes you can’t feel your brain,
But other times, you strike, leaving all competition slain.
Your soul can be cold,
a frozen tundra of breath taking gold.
Yet you warm the hearts of many,
Taking the breath of millions, leaving them for any.
You touch the glaciers with your feet,
You wait for the mountains and snow caps to meet.
You watch and observe the deep green pines,
You sit and stare at their twisting vines.
You dance by the fire, bare feet padding the ground in sacred desire,
You watch the molten snowflakes twirl around you in a tragic misfire.
You let your arms lank around the sand as you frolic on the beach,
You let the sun ripen your cheeks like a farm-valley peach.
You are not chaos,
You are not anxiety,
You are not what they tell you.
You are not what they think they see.
You are so much more than that to me.
Copyright © Rory Wainwright | Year Posted 2019
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