standing under pressure

how deep does the purple in the flower seem to me?
how wide is the sky?
how angry is the bee?
how red is the meat in the supermarket,
rare?
how bright is a smile
when no happiness is there?

i climbed only one mountain
i fished only one stream
i owned only one turtle
only once really screamed

how green is the grass when it
reaches in the rain
races toward a lift
before the clipper comes again?
how dead is the clay
of a bruised and battered land?
how timed is a life
trapped in an hourglass with sand?

how white are the clouds
that drift along without a care
and how simple are these thoughts
when only vision breathes the air?

how purple is a flower
for eyes trained to see its depths?
how blessed is every raindrop
in a world already wet?

how far can i look forward
and how backward do i lean?
oh its not that i was angry
even sunshine has a beam

as we twist compare and contrast
never worried
by the score …
for each purple flower is beauty
yet in clay the grace is more

are you suffered?
are you anxious?
well a world was never home
for to see a deeper consequence
is to live result alone
…. and peace
dawns but an age
for each dog to gnaw its bone

how gray is the shuddering of rain
upon the rock?
how deeply formed in time
is a book between its thoughts

how wide are your hopes?
perhaps they never found relief
but remember colors deepen
as you contemplate beneath

the team of light

(trained by the grain of every flower!
not under-stood yet always stand)
while a purple only chimes in position of its plight
plucked by the hand

image

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