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Contributor: Alex Rubsam

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You are the gleam of joy with those who know,
that you are the smiling eyes of every child,
the sound of the falling tree and its thunder,
its form conceived, its vibration perceived.
You are the rippling energy in between the
movement of every fluttering leaf,
with every bated breath the moment it loosens,
as it always remembers to let go.
You are the salt from the Tyrant's troubled brow,
that beaded from the sun's warming embrace
that followed the atomic blunder
from the bomb's twisted tango
with the earth's reshaped sand that protected
the heads of the young and old for a time.
You are the alto, the soprano, the tenor,
who's gentle tones beat your intelligent heart
into the place amongst the very atoms of every
exhilarated spirit and every woed sight seen,
of the morning's glow, of every sigh of relief
of every astonishing birth
of every living thing.
You are the kneading paw, the eager sprout,
and the serpent's cool blood,
who seek the familiar warmth and promise
of the stars that crafted us long ago.

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