the winds are my walls

I've searched Crayola boxes and paint palettes
worldwide and have yet to find
the blue of the sky so pure and clear,
unprecedented in its openness,
acceptance. The eye to the universe -
it is a limitless telescope,
a cerulean invitation to the unknown.
Look up, look up into infinity.

I've stopped to smell the roses and daffodils,
the orchids' sweet scent climbing
into my brain. The sharp hint of grass
evokes times of baseball in the summer
and dew-soaked romps,
sprightly and sensual. Uninhibited beauty is only
what you are reminded of in its perception.
Look down, look down into memories.



I've sailed the ocean through, glared uncomprehendingly
into the depths of doom, layers of life.
Poseidon cares not about the (in)significance of
yesterday or the brand of your ware - prejudice
is not in his vocabulary. The power
of the sea humbles us, equalizes, more than
war and peace, love and hate.
Look out, look out into divinity.

The winds are my walls -
The stars are my canopy -
The roots are my floors -
in which I flutter, seamless,
under which I lie, faceup,
upon which I dance, passionate.
Nature is us, so it is palpable that
when we look around us, we truly
look into, look into ourselves.

(and who I want to be.)

-cmb