The little boy reached the top of a mountain
Overlooking the sea,
Sitting in nature
He asked out loud
What is the way of the world?
Feeling the sun beating,
Warming him
Against his skin
Against the Earth.
Representing a new awakening in each rise.
A rest with every setting
What is it the way of the world? He asks.
Feeling the wind brush against his back
Pushing him to move forward
To keep going
To continue
What is your way? He calls.
Looking down at the current of the seas
Calm and cool
Which both crash and cradle
Which rinse him anew
What is the way of the world?
As he gazes up
Into the clouds overhead
And in the distance
In the storms that face
That blow
That also tire
Until the sun shines again
Proving it does
Showing it will.
He notices both pebbles jabbing underneath his feet
And boulders for a sturdy place to rest.
What is the way?
As he looks down
Feeling the stable ground
On which he stands.
Looking around him
At bushes and trees
That bring both flowers and thistle
Flowers lingering a sweet scent
A beauty
Thorns that pause his path.
To warn him of potential.
Of pokes
Of slices
Is this the way of the world?
In nature he asks
Wiser than he
Older
More experienced
Are you teaching me something in
The heat, the cool
The storms, the calm
The push, the pause
In the bush with both fruit and spur
He calls
All real.
All facets
All continuing to be,
No matter what others notice or believe
Are you showing me what I should be?
What I could,
Or merely what I am?
Am I the way of the world?
The ocean, the mountains,
The storm, the sun,
In one body,
One soul
Allowed to be
All of nature inside of me
