Commit to memory
Everything you picked up in your trajectory
Don’t come down to land
Until you’ve done all that you can
As these are what you have
When your quieter days
Outnumber the hectic ones
Commit to memory
Everything you picked up in your trajectory
Don’t come down to land
Until you’ve done all that you can
As these are what you have
When your quieter days
Outnumber the hectic ones
A thought process,
Seated and taking a turn on a merry-go-round,
Like a child,
Watching the world go by,
Your discovery,
Interacting,
And seeing the world you have born it into,
For the first time.
I feel myself inexplicably reaching for the stars,
The vast eternity that peppers the night sky,
Brightest petals of the celestial wilderness that lies beyond,
Everything has its season,
Theirs is measured in millennia;
Pick apart the petals,
Measure it to your soul – the very essence of your being,
Feel it resonate like a calling,
Draw solace to face the reality:
You are but a bee on a flower of blue,
In a vast garden stretching beyond imagining;
I cannot help but agree with the proposition, therefore:
We were never meant to dwell on this flower alone;
How about you?