My Life Is...

an open book, pages unwritten, the fresh scent of bound paper...waiting to be filled, overflowed with fluid marking...waiting for unchartered land, beyond the expectation of others...weathered cover from the handlings of others, the battle scars of a journey...being filled, filled, filled with words, some familiar, some unknown, the world being recorded from one eye, one ear, one breath...life! being lived! being touched, grasped, kissed...the cosmos in agreement, the molecules in which our very existence persists, our very minds spin, our very hearts beat...the universe needs felt all over...dirty fingerprints covering the surface, explored, understood, wondered, swallowed, saved, marveled, taken in...a flower, petals tucked in, safe, protected, others fallen, trampled, weathered...the wonder of life...but the pages are colored, are smeared with watercolors... words run, run, run down off the page... don't need definition of beat... only that which colors, floats, runs away... that which reached down, creates... here, now, with touching and feeling and breathing in...an infinite and finite reaching down... to this earth, this very earth... to this life, an open book.