[Here is another poem submitted anonymously by my friend. If you thought My Old Vineyard was metaphysical, think again.]
Walking through a park, flowers slurping dew and dirt, the sun throwing rays out it's window, the blue jay practicing it's song- she always misses that one note. Traffic today is terrible. Everybody scampering around almost meaninglessly with lives that in the end could possibly never be examined at all. Who would care if a single one of them died, or all of them. The green city has no homeless; those without walls simply belong where they stand. Sitting in the shade of the green building, watching the city work how it's supposed to, I suddenly feel at peace. The noise is drown out by it's own beauty. Of all the people in the metropolitan I am the single that looks up, with the buildings my horizon, the blue planes my ocean, the clouds my mountains-
The life that is learned by just watching the way one individual walks from thing to thing to place to thing, the love that is felt, the connection is ever present between existence and beauty. The ability to learn to another, to let experience experience, a grain of sand holds infinity. Oh, to comprehend every grain of sand or dirt that has touched your feet. Every movement goes back to You, every moment, every moonrise. And Your heart smiles ever so slightly upon every ounce of existence it knows. "It only takes one tree to make a thousand matches, it only takes one match to burn a thousand trees". Your head grins of clever rhymes and knowledge of Your heart's nature, which it can not believe nor comprehend; your grays and whites will know none the better as well, even if they tried.
-that is how I found You.
The city becomes a war zone at night. Constant rat-a-tat-tats coming from hidden dark soldiers on the ground, flying kamikazes with stabbing knives and a fetish for red, thousands of brilliant explosions of light in the air, God save any who walks around not in shadow. Light will ensure a quick retaliation from every country's army, swarming around preparing for the swift attack.
Retreat, there is no shame. The sacred grounds gain no loss, only time and time of mine thought. I will hibernate the night, and await the time when beauty is perfectly approaching perfection, as all imperfect things eventually do. Whether the snow or dead leaves litter the city streets, or uncut grass or hundreds of weeds, the color, the smell, the sounds, the place time and existence will forever exist. And existence brings wonder to the mind, reminding it of You; If You truly exist, then existence can not possibly be a bad thing and a love of all possibility unmentioned is gained. If You were non-existent, it is certain that You would move this world even more, you would fill the cracks between the universe and time, the hollowness of existence would be filled with pure You, and we all know that this means You would hold possession of all, the hearts of life all expand at a rate synchronized with your flow of essence. "A fish swims through the sea while the sea is, in a certain sense, contained within the fish". The amber of the sky at low degrees is all that is perceivable during this moment, when faith gives all a second chance. From the corner of her eye as she turns her cheek once again to the yellow-red brute, Terra sees mutuality in existing with him (He's one of those people who look attractive from a distance only). But I wouldn't have it any other way; it's how everything is with You along with it.
I keep Existence one of my closest friends; he set up one hell of a blind date.