I can watch this all day.
The sway of my breath, As it draws in vitality. Gracing the crown of my head, With bright amber thoughts.
I organic machine, The perfect vehicle to create.
To turn matter into energy, Energy into movement, Movement into art, And all over again.
I cyclical being, With a circular existence. I pray that these roots may grow, That this chest may swell, With a drive to create a new story come dawn. I pray to the earth that someday, I may find my way back.
And when all this sunlight, Has been turned into ripe fruit, Then I ask to be laid bare.
May the wind whisper my memory, Amidst torrential rain and thunder.
May the earth use this body, To fuel another’s existence.