Why?

Because

we struggle to be one with the world,

such as merging human perception

with summer air idling

among the maples’ weathered trunks.

Because

we find we can’t shape the

wind as it embraces the leaves,

or become the wood,

any more than the lightning fire

nature may use to maintain its love

can guide the flames it creates.

Because

we can’t be the oceans,

or the creatures beneath,

but only another creature pleased,

by its sheer existence.

Because

we’re evident to orchestra members

as they play,

but can never be the shimmer of the strings

or the timbre of the drums.

Because

songs exist only in the singing,

and can never be the singer,

just as an idle voice knows not

the magic of vibrations forming.

Because

striving to be one with all

means listening to history’s rhythm

pounding beneath our breast,

as we close our eyes to see beyond.

Because

it may all be illusion.

Try discovering your muse.

Extend an invitation to share the next dance,

the next caress of your pen,

the next moment which is always

one with the world.

Why?

Because we all have undiscovered consciousness to explore,

to acquire lessons,

to hopefully realize wisdom.