why are we here?

To collect

 to Scatter

to find blindly 

 textures

 emotions

To pen silly words

To dictate hollow phrases

  To build really big piles

Of flowers and grass and jars full of voices

  and moments

  that glow like dusty gold summer afternoons

To clench our fists into the earth and refuse to let go, no matter what, no matter who says

  To scream our bottled-up stars into the shrouded sky,

    And we are small

    and our hands release, and our arms fall limp with our faces at our sides

To experience

  purple

To finger flowers

To rob the fair rose

  To wonder

  Why and how

To question

To sit up straight and listen

  to the wind when there is nothing but a motionless night and a flattened heart

To sit passive as the wind chaps our lips and the moisture empties into the sky

  To trample eroding cliffs until there are no cliffs, nowhere, and there is nothing barring the sea from the     

   land

   It slips in, indifferently, passionately

And you sit still, cloaked in your visions, 

  feeling blindly for a stone.

photo by Lawrence Martinez.