At what speed does the soul speak?
The speed that trees breathe?
The speed in which trees speak?
I feel like a child
watching things crawl
and fascinated by the miniature
I’ve become a child again
squatting down to look at little life
as though it is my whole world.
And what I look at
is what I see.
Where I direct my eyes
is what I look at.
Where are my thoughts dwell
is where I direct my eyes.
My thoughts dwell
where I direct them.
Unless I have chosen to leave that up to chance,
and the wind and clouds ,
and the weather and my moods,
and my bodys chemistry.
I see what I choose to see.
The leaves fall
and I will fall.
Plants grow
and I will grow.
New nests are built
and things are born.
I’m not always careful with my thoughts,
they lead me down twisty paths;
scenting trails and exploring every avenue.
I am always capable of grabbing hold of the leash;
sometimes I like to pretend that I don’t have that ability.
