Wonder, wonder, wonder.

Is this the one sight?

When looking at the black blue of falling night

Or upon the sun’s brilliant breaking light?

Wonder, wonder, wonder.

Is all flavored so?

Whether exquisite cuisine, Italiano

Or simple apple of radiant red glow?

Wonder, wonder, wonder.

Is this alone what is heard?

From the noise of soft electronic purr

To the powerful orchestra and its reverb?

Wonder, wonder, wonder.

Is this the one aroma alone?

The smell of the country, its own song

To the fragrance of cooking in one’s own home.

Wonder, wonder, wonder.

Is this all that is felt?

The softness of the mink, his pelt

To the suffering of possible pains dealt.

No, nay, again, not at all.

Same for all is the reality.

But I want to tell what it looks like to me.

I know that I know I see no differently.

Objective perspective; true reality.

I will to describe what is already known.

But words cannot tell what is clearly shown.

No, words cannot describe the wonders of this life, our own.

I write as I write in hopes numbered one.

The dream is that I may do justice some.

Justice to the beauty that is life,

With all the victories, pains, and strife.

I write as I write to maybe, possibly, if only just once

Paint the world with words and show it’s magnificence