Being alive.
Transactions with the trees
bring ease upon me. Breathe into my lungs,
become a Mr. Hyde inside me.
Tousles hair atop the pillow. Will you let me
tell of you the silly muses that I find?
Cliche of me to say I find the beauty in everything, singing
sun along the hillside
trilling birds that flitter by.
Oh, in my life I see the glory in the story behind
the mask. To ask yourself about yourself
and be surprised.
The things that have yet to be are about to begin,
and I just sit back with my pen.