Write poetry for no one and
Make beauty for its own sake.
Go alone, and go quietly,
speaking aloud, your sorrows and your prayers
in this world and the next.
You will see then, that there are
wild and fearsome Spirits which endure,
even amidst the city sprawl
which unfurls its concrete tendrils
in every direction.
Paving over aquifers and filling streams
we've forgotten to worship
with dirty plastic and discarded clothes,
tennis shoes, and beer cans, and old condoms.
When we can behold the world with eyes wide open, seeing her as she truly is, and witnessing at once, the entirety of both her beauty and her despair -- then we grow so small, that we disappear.
s u b l i m e
and we see beneath the surface;
fat and furry black bumble bees,
who materialize and retreat, to and from nowhere,
and who care not one bit, what goes on
in the world of Humans, but carry on instead
with the same ancient work as ever before.