The Flapping of the Smallest Feather Wings

The outcome of the daily weather does not depend entirely upon
The gusts of wind which carry over the oceans and seas
From the turning of the Earth
And the centrifugal force of its incredible mass
Rather
There are the most minute imperfections
Movements
Of beasts and of individuals
That shift the balance ever so slightly
But ever so crucially
The flapping of the smallest feather wings
Twisting in time
Across open plains many miles away

For every action
There is an equal and opposite reaction
A shifting in the universe in which the change occurs
Which ripples out
As a wave
Interacting with
Cancelling out and strengthening
Other waves and particles

We are responsible
Each and every one
For the impact that we have
On the environment and the lives we interact with
As our choices
Reach out far beyond ourselves
Into other worlds
Into other stories
Like extensions of ourselves
Through which we experience
The world around us

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Each With Their Own Story to Tell

Do we not all exist
As figures in a grand portrait
Captured
Each second
In a cosmic still-life
Our lives existing
Within
As well as between
Each vibration
Each motion
Each advancement of the scene?

We are all here
Together
Huddled
On an improbable
And utterly awesome
Sphere of space debris
That is spinning through space
And time
With a rapidity that we struggle to comprehend,
Living
Breathing
Waiting
For our chance
To be.

Each one of us,
At one time or another,
Feel as if we are but side characters –
Unseen,
Unheard,
Unwanted,
Unneeded,
Our mere existence
Just a product of decisions made
Beyond our control
And without our awareness.

We may feel as though
Life is not for us to live,
To be observed,
But not to be participated in.

This is
Of course
An unsettling and ultimately false perspective.

In any given moment
There is,
By nature of the reality in which we exist,
No distance between,
No difference between,
Any one of us,
For we are all of the same beginnings
And will someday find ourselves subject to
The same end.
Fading in an out
Of an ever-changing world of light and matter,
None no more valuable,
Nor more despicable,
Than the last,
All worthy of love,
Of kindness,
Of respect and recognition,
As we are all just collections of matter,
Each unique
And each with their own story to tell.

All the World Waits

All the world waits
For you
Though surely there are times
Where it may feel
Like it is just beyond your reach
A realm unto itself
To be observed
But not to be interacted with

Know this
That you are
Not alone

There is so much that is not understood
About this place which we call home
So many facets of life
That are utterly beyond comprehension
From the grand and marvelous
To the seemingly mundane

Even the stars themselves
Which shine so bright in the stars above
Once thought to be fixed points of pure light
Infinite and absolute
Are but decomposing remnants
Scattered across great expanses of empty space
Many long dead
Remembered only by their lingering echoes

Our impact on those around us
Is not always clear
Nor can it be easily defined
By what we can immediately understand
And we are left to wonder
What purpose we serve

But just as the stars above
Though surely someday we will fade
Our legacy remains

Of What, I Am Not Certain

I remember when
Our eyes opened
With the rising of the sun

The smell of morning air
And a renewal that cannot quite be captured
In words
Can only be felt
But for a moment

I remember standing
Behind a frozen pane of glass
Staring out
Into a world of swirling white
Wondering
Whether there was still anything left at all
Beyond

There is a chill which lingers
In the air even in warm rooms
Waiting
Until finding its way
Straight through thick jackets
Shirts and flesh beneath
Straight to the core
Of what, I am not certain
For I have felt it so many times before
But cannot trace
From where it started
Nor when or where it ceased to be

A Reflection of That Which Lies Beyond

Sometimes I cannot help but to be drawn
Into a state of awe and utter fascination
At the magnificent complexity of the world in which we reside
The beautiful diversity of life within it
And the vast array of relationships that develop
Both within and between the two

I am at times overwhelmed
While simultaneously confounded
At the simplicity with which we attempt to define
Reality and those who share it with us

Surely
We must understand
That there are not nor ever have been
Such simple constructs as those
Which we are inclined to project
Upon this reality
Which is not a blank screen as we might perceive
Manifest entirely as an external mirror for what lies within us
But rather a fine and elaborate work of art
To be appreciated and observed
That it might serve instead to enrich us
If not with knowledge
Then with wonder
And a drive
Not to redefine the world to suit our internal vision
But rather to build our internal world
That we might someday see
Inside ourselves
A reflection of that which lies beyond

Beyond the Veil

How we wonder
What lies in wait
On the other side
Beyond the veil

So much of our time
Preoccupied
Driven
Towards understanding

But at what cost?
Are all doors meant to be opened
Or are there some which exist
Solely for the purpose
Of hiding
What exists behind them?

What wonder will remain
When we have pierced the shroud
When we have finally uncovered
What lies
Beyond the veil?

Always Missing Something

I want to run
Through the dark and into the forest beyond
To keep pace with the coyotes
To ride the columns of air that carry the crows high above the tallest trees

I have never quite felt at home
Here amongst the bright lights and ticking clocks
Always missing
Something

I want to return
To the landscape filled with windy mountaintops and endless prairie
To walk in the cool of night by the light of the stars and pale moon
Far from the humming of LCD screens and the groan of tired automobiles

But I know
That these things are no longer within my reach
And even if they were
No matter where I go
There will always be somewhere else that beckons
There will always be another way of life that seems by far superior to the one I am living
For contentment is a rare
Grasped only with patience and mindful thought
And even the most vast and comprehensive collections of precious objects and memories
Is always bound
By expectations
Tethered
To reality
Existing in the distance between them
Fated as such to fall short
Always missing
Something

You Will Shine

Even the most simple stone
At first glance
Of little value and without distinction
Carries with it a history
Rich and intricate
Told in striations and composition
Layers upon layers
Each one unique
And filled with memories
Pain and sorrow
Joy and celebration
Captured and displayed without restraint
But so easily overlooked
At times ignored entirely
In favor of objects more pleasing to the eye
Or cast without regard
Into the shadow-filled depths of the uncaring sea
To be swept away
Dashed upon banks and beaches filled
With so many millions of others
Forgotten
Tossed about by forces beyond their control
Until at last
The tides and constant collisions
Have worn away the rough edges
Slowly smoothing out the surface layers
Polishing to a fine sheen
And in doing so
Revealing a beauty that was prior unrealized
To shine like a gem
Upon sun-strewn shores

You are as a stone
Caught as it were
In the throes of a turbulent world

You may feel
As though there is no hope
As if you can go no further
For what have you to gain?
What have you to show?

But you must hold on
For you are filled
With a beauty beyond compare
And in time
These trials will expose in you
The life and energy that has been dormant all these years

When you have been freed at last
The tumult and the fray
Your journey will be complete
You will find your place under the brilliant glow
And you will shine

A Mirror to the World

Your eyes
Have seen so much
Of this world
So much joy and beauty
As well as more than their share of pain

When you look out
You perceive
You analyze
You record
Events and experiences
Unique to you
Often entirely unobserved
By anyone else
Sometimes simply yours in perspective
But always yours nonetheless

And when you speak
Or write
What is conveyed
Acts as a reflection
A mirror to the world
And those who listen
Or read
Are granted by extension
A rare gift
To see what you have seen
As you have seen them
To contemplate
What it is to be
To live
Beyond the self

From Every Corner of the Room

There will be days
When the shadows close in
From every corner of the room
And the clouds outside
Will not abate

There will be nights
Where the soft pattering
Of rain against the window
Brings no peace
For the sound may serve
As a stark reminder
Of the world that lays beyond
And how very far away it can feel

There will be moments
When you question
All that you know and are
Seeing only the flaws
In your design

But you must be patient
Knowing
That the light of day will shine once more
That the world is not nearly as far away as it may seem
That your flaws are what make you who you are
For it is the lows
That differentiate the highs
And in between the two
Is where peace is found