You Are a Walking Talking Miracle of Nature

Let the miracle shine forever

Poetry and Prose

Let the miracle shine forever

Oil painting generated by author using Bing Image Creator

How do you write your soul?
Can it be done? Can it be attempted? 
Of course, it can. Read Whitman.

Traverse the unconscious until you sense the unlimited possibilities. 
Do you want to express what you can’t speak? Sing. 
Do you want to express what you can’t sing? Dance.
Do you want to express what you can’t dance? Write.

Writings have survived thousands of years,
yet I want to remove tweets almost immediately.

How are thin, dark lines scribbled illegibly on thinly cut pieces of wood so powerful? 
I remember kindergarten well, and my teacher never taught that wars and religions were created this way.

Someone, somewhere, somehow 
thought a thought thoroughly through 
and in no time, his time, her time, 
it became a thing.

Like magic, these electrons fire in our brain
to move our lively limbs lovingly across the paper, 
rigidly writing and sculpting that which can not be. 
Until it is.

Until we will it to exist out of nothing.

Dreams are cast off in society as figments of our imagination. 
Yet, I challenge you to find me an invention that wasn’t a dream.

Did Eiestein not dream about gravity before relativity?
Did Edison not dream about producing light before the lightbulb?
Did the Wright brothers not dream until they, too, were right?
Indeed, they did. And we do, too. We must.

Your soul is yours, yet not yours. It’s ours to share and grow and love.
Your soul is open to all things but closed and guarded. 
My soul longs to touch but not be touched. 
A contradiction we all share, yet all deny.

Some accuse others of hypocrisy as if their lives made any more sense. 
We are surprised at the wrongs people attempt to make right
but what wrong have you made right? 
Perhaps it was written or spoken, laughed at or cried, 
But you are no more godly than I am a tree.

Our words do not contain the depths of our souls. 
How could they?
No dance or song or voice will express it neatly.
Why should they?

Are we not all the same kind of energy?
It comes from the explosion of a star long since gone.
Hidden by time and space, we only see its reflection in our mirror.

You are a walking, talking miracle of nature. 
Contradiction, science fiction, a benediction to cause friction
enough to leave your mark.

And mark it we shall.

Through our love and our actions and our words. 
Let them travel further than you can possibly imagine. 
Let them travel beyond your conscious dreams into legend.
Let them become a new star in some distant corner of existence 
we won’t see or hear, but we will touch.

Believe it or not, what you write will see forever. 
What you believe will impact future kings. 
The butterfly starts a hurricane 
and the grasshopper an earthquake.

So to you, dear sir or madame, lovely reader or newcomer. 
Reach out with your soul and shine forever. 
You already are.