With the sun beaming, birds singing, butterflies and bees cavorting about the place, and the Winds Of Change currently subdued (more on that later), it’s easy – today – to feel that the whole universe is made of gold-dust.
The atmosphere has that ethereal quality to it, and everything is looking fresh with a glow no doubt borrowed from the sunshine. It’s one of those special days where you can quite distinctly see the magic inherent in existence.
And it’s got me thinking about something I wrote not long ago…
With that naïve simplicity to keep it safe,
Hidden from those who would complicate wonder
Into the depths, smaller and smaller, down to the Lego bricks of existence.
So let them search with their microscopes,
Call the quest fruitless, futile, vain, unproductive;
Call off the hunt and go back to their books.
For people like that, with their measures and scales
Will not see the wood for the trees, the truth from the lies –
Inseparable as they are at the core.
While the gardeners, and shepherds, and craftsmen
Perform everyday magic, ordinary alchemy,
Within plain sight of their unforgiving cousins – and yet still they do not comprehend.
But if we don’t stretch, we don’t break, we don’t die,
We don’t rip our perceptions to shreds,
Then we never get vulnerable enough to learn…
We stay shut in the dark with our thoughts and ideals,
Give the illnesses names, and label the basal metals
Until they become our brands and descriptions be they for better or worse!
We explain away miracles with long Latin names,
Chalk it up to coincidence – synchronicity be damned!
Toss it to the maw of enlightened understanding.
For this strange new breed of awfully correctness fails to grasp:
You can gain no degree in the wonder of life,
There’s no qualification in marvels.
Now I’m off to stand barefoot on some really hot pavement while I wonder at how beautiful the world is.