Walking

I'm slowly walking down the street.

I see the blue of water,

the art of its form.

The water's wisdom is slowing down.

Its flow, its rhythm, its beat.

When I walk

I dance in the street,

because like water I am more free.

My eyes are low,

because I got high.

I contemplate about what it's like to die.

I breathe e x h a l e and sigh.

There's too much beauty in the blue

freedom of the sky,

and I'm too busy with my eye

looking up.

I look around, forgetting to take photos.

I notice most people take photos

then forget to look.

I am an unknown in a book.

A nomad walking with the light.

The yellow might be mimicked

by the yellow

of my notebook.

Though I struggle as a poet,

look

I just like to write.

When I walk now I walk with more sight.

No longer do I stare at the ground.

I'm alone, but more alive

no longer bound by these bindings

I place on me.

I slowly walk with a dream.

Lost in the grey matter it seems.

I flew far from home on a wing,

thinking I needed more confidence so

I could be more like me.

Thinking my insecurities

ought to be

this black hole to avoid.

Now that I am on my own,

like a void,

lost in my head

I begin to destroy

the idea

that there'll be a point when I'm perfect.

Perfection is pointless.

I need insecurities to grow.

If I could just lose my ego.

The point being it wasn't confidence,

no,

but courage I seek.

Courage to be strong when I'm weak,

but also courage to be weak

when I'm only taught to be strong.

I realized too,

the movie wasn't wrong.

I could go out and seek courage

with rose coloured eyes,

though the wizard wasn't lying to the lion

in the land of Oz,

the courage already was in me.

I breathe e x h a l e and pause.

I'm still not perfect,

but that was a powerful clarity.

Slowly walking, more aware

I see

the world with more colour.

A world where we all grow

when old men plant green trees

they'll never sit under.

Walking's made me wonder.

How inside my mind

I find reflection in the water,

under the moon, under the sun.

Our microcosms are tethered to the skies,

our bodies tethered to our minds.

We've always had this connection to One.

It's been lost through semantics,

and the romantics of only one

True God.

As above,

so below.

Now I'm adamant to show,

the black hole is the sum

of all the colours folded into one.

I walked through a forest,

black and old.

No longer did the black hole have a hold on me.

It began to unfold

into blue, green, and yellow.

For now I'm on my own to mellow.

What a day it is for a fellow

to walk with the sun.