This morning I found myself
in a meadow which was
undisturbed by anything around it,
and I discovered that somehow I was
everything in it
I was what made the meadow move.

I was the grass,
and I was the tree bark,
and I was the wispy white clouds
that floated as if they had never touched
the ground before
and had never wanted to.

I think it's because the world is one big
rotation. Meaning that the world
is one big circulation of blood flow
and the spirit which puts these words
onto the paper is always continuously taken
and given back to something new.

Sometimes when someone gets a heart transplant
the body rejects the new organ and there is nothing
to do except accept because there isn't anything you can
do about it.
that's how I feel about my spirit because I know
that when I am older
and have lived my life long enough to realize
that big ideas are only big until the
world looms big enough to take them
my spirit will flow away like
the breeze that rushes between my fingertips.
and it will pool like the rainbow of oil in a puddle of water
in something which has not yet had a chance
and I will lose a little each time
each time I move on.

one day I will be the trees
and one day I will be the grass
and the breeze will rustle through my veins
like it was made to be only there
and though I will have experienced what it feels like
to have someone kiss me on my human shoulders
I will only remember what it feels like
to have the sunshine kiss my
leaves, like it was made
to be there.