Ah beautiful places
where we come
risk our lives as though
we’re gifted more
than just this precious one
icy water’s cold
reflects a wide eye blue
summer serene sky
swallowing our breath
a final anti hero cry
mighty river song barely a ripple
flows on by
How long
I’ve lived already
barely
realizing the quiet quite obvious:
inspiration
means breathing in
while conscious.
I aspire now
to more than
mere presence.
Ah
I have realized
again
and again
breathing out
breathing in
when I venture out
when I come back in
whether harsh with cold
or soft summer wind
whatever day or dare or game
we find ourselves stumbling in
Nature wins
Nature wins.
Pencil on paper. Images arise. Message received.