It seems like being on top of the world
is equivalent to lying exposed
under rocks and rain, between leaves and soil,
learning that man and life are not opposed:
To delve deep into earth, to pull out
a vein of fresh water, coursing like life
which is blood, which is truth, and which is doubt –
all of this is grace, from the dark to light:
Reality is honed and shaped without;
the inside is flexible like fresh air;
We must put what we can into sight
and let space take its toll and time its tithe:
He who dies within the mind specious;
he who dies within the earth is gracious.
urbansonnets 