Didn’t realize how noisy I was ’til I went outside.
How relevant I thought I was.
How ridiculous and small I am.
– In the wind and the green and the birdsong –
In beholding flora’s quantity, array
All my petty clamberings are silenced:
Within and without.
I am quieted.
Perhaps it’s the absence of my own kind
Perhaps the silent roar of “wilder” things
Fulfilling their respective states of being
Remaining true to their natural functionings and purposes
None ill equipped or unsuited for their work
(so far as they know)
(Even without a sense of one’s own diminishment)
Fresh air in my lungs
Hushed by the vast green of plants in my sight
I wonder why
Sometimes humanity seems more to eat up so much life
When ours is all potential to add to it.
Why creation’s forsaken in our forgetting –
How and why we die in our detachment from earth and sky and creatures.
If there’s to be death,
May it be of the worst parts of us:
– My sense of my own importance, to start, –
And let there be a remembering of the life that surrounds.