When I look for myself in the world
I’m very hard to find
Not because I am so small
But because existence
Is very, very big
So I remind myself
I am not in the world
I am not of the world
I am the world
And it is me
Not because I am so small
But because existence
Is very, very big
So I remind myself
I am not in the world
I am not of the world
I am the world
And it is me
And as it lies there
Like a cat on blanket
Napping in the afternoon sun
Coming through the window
Mother Nature soothes
Its hard, rigid body
With a massage of
Wind, rain and
Savage heat
A solid from liquid
Carved and shattered
Cracks refilled by molten rock
Uplifted and fractured
Sundered and separated
Tumbled and rolled
Now here
Settled gently
On the shore
Of a still lake
On a quiet dawn
To marvel at the fleeting existence
Of the things that live
Even the tree
If only I had the eyes
Of old father time
I could see the rock raging
Dropping aeons of boulders
Upon the valley floor
Like hailstones
From sandstone clouds
All such admirable
Qualities of stone
Though I prefer
Soft
Supple
Flowing
Fluid
Is this the dawn of time?
Or apocalypse?
The beginning of life?
Or the end of it?
Were I to climb out
Upon this leafless bough
Would I be
Of Lilliputian dimension
Saw blades
Of rock
And ice
Lifted into sky
I am reminded
Earth is a very small place
And I
I am a very small man