Being Beautiful Earth

I walk barefoot

Upon your back

Breathing the fresh, clean air

Cleansed by the trees,

Their breath in mine

As mine is in theirs.

And my eyes gaze upon all your wonder,

My eyes which are yours,

My seeing which is your sight.

To think I once walked separate,

High in thought

And fear

And confusion,

Yet still my bare feet

Touched the ground,

And what the soil bore

I ate, digested, made into myself,

Unyieldingly gripping

The fiction of separation,

Believing illusion

Despite the proof of my body.

The wind is in me

And I am the wind.

I am the earth

Momentarily raised into flesh,

Borrowed from eternity.

I am the being and the seeing.

How could I have maintained

The belief that in all the universe,

Only we, as humans,

Dwell outside all that is?

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