A string of thoughts

It is love for one another that makes us lonely.
To remember something forgotten is to never have forgotten at all.
Connected to nature and to the people is what I long to be.
If what I long for is to sit beneath that tree,
then that is where I will be.
If he wants to see it
why can’t he? Why can’t He?

Let me not forget where I am now,
for if I lie here long enough,
I will become a part of it all.
The ants don’t care about me,
they know their business and will find their way.
The inchworm that crawls about my sleeve just seems lost,
for he knows not that I am otherworldly,
and that leaves do not shoot from these twigs I call arms.
Perhaps he is wise to something..
something like if I am here now, and not actively rocking his world, I am just as much a daily nothingness to him as he is to me.
These bugs are depraved, yet I need them.

Beauty is all around me, but if I stop long enough to admire every fallen autumn leaf, I would become no smarter than the leaf itself.

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