I wish
Inspiration can never be forced, wisdom can never be taught, life can never be molded to have one set meaning, and nature will not be contained, the balance of the universe is its imbalance, its imperfection is its own definition, its own flow and ebb of colors, like a river, like a prism of crystals, like falling droplets of the all of light and life and creation, all summed up and spat out like a helix, yet swirling out of control, it haunts our breath, our sight, our every touch, it is our bedfellow and our rival, we desire to understand its composition, to be able to write our own song, yet, to truly be a part of the grand creation, the scheme of the world, requires a bit of mystery on our part, and with each fold, with every prod and new answer we tweaze out of existence, we are faced with a new sky, a new constillation, a new myriad of opportunities that have yet to be reached, and we are never satisfied, perhaps our nature is but another expression of the universe's own humor, its own sense of irony, we cannot be content with that which will always provide, and asks only for love and respect in return, we want more, we need more, yet this great mother comes back to us, no matter how much we scorn her, resent her, desert her, she is there, cleaning our air, bringing us food, warming us with light, she always takes us into her ever bountiful bossum, was there ever a creator as loving as this, as patient as her, have we ever stopped to question our worthiness of such a gift, or why it was given to us, we may never be able to thank her, but when you let all of those petty, trivial concerns of our society slide off of your concious, and feel her whole, pure beauty, taste her soul....doesn't it make you wish you could?