This Is The Sound Of Morning In June

Underneath the eruptions of foliage
the light generates soundwaves
which stealthily disappear into the busy soil
like worms wiggling into the time-pausing
depths of a singularity.

We are falling,
caressed into eerie transcendence
by the expanding cosmos,
by the misty waterfall of memory
which always sends us splashing so wildly
into the oddly familiar rhythms of the past.

There are ideas that I cannot convey,
emotions I cannot begin to comprehend,
as I am merely a single leaf adrift upon a river called Life.

Yet there is movement:
watch as I sway with the wind,
listen as I rustle with jubilation,
daring to embrace the buoyancy of this journey,
attempting to envelop these fragile moments
with a silky cocoon of human awareness.

(Join hands with me, as we glance upwards to the sky above.)

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