I’ve been known to trip on air.
And not merely stumble,
but fall headfirst into
a tree, lamppost, grass, concrete.
Some times are more painful than others.
People tell me it’s lack of attention,
that my head
is so far in the clouds
I can’t see what’s right in front of me.
But I promise you,
it’s just air.
How can I avoid air?
Now don’t be silly, even if
I hold my breath,
it’ll still be around me.
My theory is a little different.
I think I get drunk
on the vibrancy in my head
and the earth gets jealous.
It believes it can never
live up
to such standards,
and so seeks to jog them
from my mind.
What it forgets
is that in order to think
such wonderful, impossible things,
I must first learn to appreciate
the real, the possible.
Otherwise, there is no foundation
for me to then sculpt with.
Treeshallow Musings 