Song of Myself

Leave the chair at your computer.
Find your way outside

and sit in the wind.

Let your eyes drift to the sky.

Lose yourself there

here
who knows?

What bird have you become
in the surrender?

What song do you sing
between the length of trees
to let the sparrow know
you are here?

Or do you simply sing
because this is what you do?
Because you live for the song
and the song lives for you?

And what do you know of the ears of insects?
Whether they, too, hear the bird singing
while they tirelessly buzz their part
in the sweet cacophony?

Find your way outside

and let your eyes receive.

How do you know
that the green
in the trees is green?
And not simply light
in one of a million flavors?

Or whether this purple flower
and this orange one
made an agreement
to share the sun that way?

Color — light — music

for free!

What color are you?
And how do you meet the sun?

Leave your chair at the computer.
Undress as you walk towards the wind.

Meet the sky there.

As naked as you are.

Come home to your real life.

A hand pulls down the closed slats of a venetian blind to reveal the sun
Image by calimiel from Pixabay

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