I should never worry or fear.
What’s the point
When: I’m standing still
In a frame lucky to be breathing;
On a wooden floor;
Suspended over a rock;
Which is part of a bigger ball,
Threatening to erupt in fury;
As it revolves around
A burning star that can die
At any moment of my time?
What then is the point of worry?
Why not hear the pounding
Of the rain on the roof and
Run straight into it, arms aloft,
Smile splitting cheeks, to
Feel the fresh deluge wash
The darkness from my spirit?
Why not then fall to the ground,
Press my ear to this living earth
And allow its heart to beat
It’s song into my future steps?
When the rain fall stops,
I will allow the sun to lead me on.