writers club: the world.

I am a rock

I encounter a fleet of in retching magic in my direction. And I welcomingly drown within it. Within the endless possibilities, impossible.

Sitting atop a cold, cruel, distant rock, glowing towards plaint earth, I stare at the glamorously blended colors the steal greens and vibrant blues.

So little am I, sitting solitarily. Mountainously staring at something so impossibly beautiful.

And earth twirling swaying, rotating across it`s own axis, as if a ballerina, dances to catch the glimpses of those who must not look.

Such as my self.

It is wrapped within a thick layer of mist, it shields its utter vulnerability, and I resist overwhelming temptations' to pierce it, burst through it, and fall into the gloriously large Atlantic, dive within it`s deep dangerous abdomen.

To discover its very core, to swim along with it`s creatures, to turn where the fish turn and learn what the fish learn.

To crawl beneath its every wholes, and absorb its deep anointing heat.

I want to stare at the very faces staring threw windows in the heart of Spain

I want to play with the children playing, jumping hopping caressing sweet shimmery snow in Greenland, I want to visit the deep glories of china, I want to run across climb across the Himalayas and blend with the strength of its rich mist. I want to be at the very peek of earth.

I want to slither upon the thick feathers of the full bloomed, wrapping, welcoming arms of the forest.

I want to be a tree, a leaf, a drop of water, a distant star, I want to be the coffee in a women's cup, and the threads in a child`s hat.

I want to breathe.

I want to feel the immense weakness, the immense exposure of being drowned within incontrollable motions and emotions.'

I want to feel the hot, fast , painful, fragile beats of a human heart within my cold, untouched chest.

I want to be a spec, a mere spec within this world.