Reaching far and beyond
for elusive answers: death over birth,
pain over joy.
And why the kitchen floor always squeaks in the same spot.
Questioning the rhythmic waves
of nature’s cycles: golden leaves, half moons,
And the hidden wisdom of planting flowers in the rain.
Rejecting the possibility
That all may be as it should be: broken branches,
And the burnt edges of blueberry muffins cooling in the pan.
Eventually touching the bitter bottom
where doubt and fear lead the dance: screams,
And the salty mess of my nose running out of control.
…the kitchen floor wakes up with the laughter of children,
flowers grow in the misty sunshine,
muffins fill up hungry bellies.
And a nose is also made for smelling…LIFE…as it is.
Life as is.
Embracing the knowledge that
comes from knowing nothing at all: spiders are silent, birds sing.
For no apparent reason.
And the undying joy of being part of it all.