On days like these
I like to go outside and
puzzle.
The sky is blue and the breeze smells sweetly of things growing;
does anyone smell that?
Do only I smell the curiosity?
People say:
Heaven is up,
Hell is down.
BUT
if you go up as far as humanly possible,
into the atmosphere and through the hole in the ozone,
where did anyone find the pearly gates?
And if you go and dig for years,
will you ever find the fallen angel?
(Does he have bruises?, I wonder)
If we cannot physically find any of it,
who can say what it is;
looks like?
Why is Heaven up?
why not, to the left?
The right?
Are we talking in relation to Earth, or
The Milky Way?
The universe?
Just ours?
(Are there more?)
I cannot say any of this for sure.
What I can say for sure
is that grass tickles my face.
I can say that Earth is round,
clouds are beautiful,
and foxes are elusive.
On days like these
I always finish the puzzle.
Kind of.
May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 9:24 PM UTC
On days like these
I like to go outside and
puzzle.
The sky is blue and the breeze smells sweetly of things growing;
does anyone smell that?
Do only I smell the curiosity?
People say:
Heaven is up,
Hell is down.
BUT
if you go up as far as humanly possible,
into the atmosphere and through the hole in the ozone,
where did anyone find the pearly gates?
And if you go and dig for years,
will you ever find the fallen angel?
(Does he have bruises?, I wonder)
If we cannot physically find any of it,
who can say what it is;
looks like?
Why is Heaven up?
why not, to the left?
The right?
Are we talking in relation to Earth, or
The Milky Way?
The universe?
Just ours?
(Are there more?)
I cannot say any of this for sure.
What I can say for sure
is that grass tickles my face.
I can say that Earth is round,
clouds are beautiful,
and foxes are elusive.
On days like these
I always finish the puzzle.
Kind of.
This is not a biographical writing, but in a way, sure, it is. Not my favorite, but I was asked to write a poem and this is what came out.
