Jul 2015
Here the veins of the earth trickle between moss and rock,
Their passage held by soil and stone.
Who sees it? who is there to witness?
Who even cares?
The earth knows and turns.
Listen... what will you hear but the birds,
The sounds of running water
And your breath?
What will you feel but the earth beneath your feet?
How dare you think
When nature takes you into her womb.
Why do you sit here friend
And worry about this and that?
Go to the forest and walk.
Watch the trees and the birds.
They will take your cares away
And ease your troubles.
Their passage held by soil and stone.
Who sees it? who is there to witness?
Who even cares?
The earth knows and turns.
Listen... what will you hear but the birds,
The sounds of running water
And your breath?
What will you feel but the earth beneath your feet?
How dare you think
When nature takes you into her womb.
Why do you sit here friend
And worry about this and that?
Go to the forest and walk.
Watch the trees and the birds.
They will take your cares away
And ease your troubles.
Writen in Scottland April 2014. This was one of the first poems I ever wrote. I was in Scottland in the middle of nowhere and there was the most beautiful stream I ever saw. Probably very few people will ever see it but it's just there!
