Touched by Woods of Life
The longer I go through this All—these ‘woods’ of Life—I am charmed, I am changed by its simple bloom, its breadth of time: tomorrow’s appeal.
Just to math its mass of served foliage. Just to calculate the thound of: tittering touches of leaves that calm, then start up again; the lip-lopping of my favorite long drink of water; the anti-grav weight of my stand on cool found moss; and all the Atlas-ball on my back, as I sleep through Earth Day on my lawn!
I hear voices too, --from the farscape of my past and up through my haunting future votings: things I must write inside my nomes, and people I want to be.
Each species on this once-in-a-light-year world calls to me from virulent forests of octant greens: I live, I move, because some of them die. Our Symbionese Spring can be found on every wet tread grass, and their arboreal seeds live on in the sciences of my male breath.
Till now, after some searching years, I still splurt through this All: not by power or by might, but by my changed spirit; knowing that my ‘moving mound of atoms’ is sieved by this nucleic loom; knowing that Life’s wave still sings to the mind of my smiling senses while I sqooze with verba de joy into every eye-opened day.
--DS5 Editor, Red Team