Something Bigger

I could be so much more
Something so much bigger I could be –
Just give me the freedom of the sky, the love of the fields;
Let my hands touch the hills and my soul the rocky, cloudy mountain tops –
Just let me breathe, breathe so much more, so much higher air and so much deeper ground, just let me breathe out all the words I could not speak in the same eloquence;
Let me form my words in the palms of wooden hands, of oak trees and wise old pines, let my thoughts be sung by tiny birds in aromatic southern coniferes down by the shore.
Just let me be, just let me breathe;
Just don’t ask me to speak in the vague little chunks into which you enjoy to mince this ephemeral art; my vagueness isn’t yours and your ways to space and break and part your thoughts aren’t fit for the rhythm of my steps. Just let me walk and skip along the roads and paths and wooden stairs I find; and I’ll bring back tales much grander than I’d otherwise find, tales of giant feelings and butterfly trails of star-wept tears, wordless stories of most wonderous travels down the well of night, I’ll touch you to let you feel the endless ocean and the deep, most satisfying rumble running through your chest as you inhale a myriad of eons-old saline chrystals, opening your heart to a fraction of the horizon I know how to feel.

An End to the Sadness of Winter

It’s time for the sadness of winter to end.
It’s time for the warmth to win over cold hands holding darkness.
Not long now (I hope);
Too long, still (I fear).