Poem No. 9

9.

When I walk outside

all I want

is to be with

everything.

Don’t you?

To be is fine.

To be with

is heaven.

No need to choose.

Only to open the doors.

A bee humming in pleasant busyness,

over an elated cosmos.

A pinkening leaf, with all her sisters and brothers and cousins,

celebrating the good fortune

of togetherness.

A dragonfly eager to guide me

through the narrows.

A puddle awaiting its return to the sea.

Let’s say the queenly moon even,

beautiful in every aspect.

And when I sit inside,

all I want

is everything

being me.

The hum.

My limbs loose in the breeze.

My memories rising and catching currents

to be crunched under

someone else’s foot.

So when I breathe,

the air coming in is everything.

We mingle.

So when I breathe,

the air going out is everything.

We go home.

And I don’t mind anymore

that everything only comes and goes.

I mind only that I remember,

eternally,

to let it.

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