as rock,
I know of the secrets of substance.
I have aligned
with the intention of wood.
as mountain,
I often french kiss with the breeze.
I have watched
the ocean's confessions into the sky.
I have wept with the rain,
that has downright lost its way.
watched water dream of a better life
than wandering.
know of the infectious laugher
of blooming in spring.
have asked snow,
point blank,
where did you come from.
learned from wind,
the tornado technique of whistling.
given birth
to what wants out,
as if lava from inside.
realized that matter,
as a printed medium,
has many presentation styles.
space seems to have the surface
to do so,
effortlessly.
and you,
at long last,
have taken up the hobby of wonder? . . .
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