Like the master stroke of a great painter
Like the genius of Einstein
True art stems from pain
Pain unknown to many
Pain known to some
The fear and adoration of the metaphysical
What is out there? I asked
Shut up, they said
I shout to the birds
They sing instead
If only I could converse in the language of birds
Then maybe I would ask the eagle why it soars so high
Why it spots little prey from thousands of feet away.
But no, I do not converse in the tongue of the birds.
I cry out to the elements
There is something omniscience about the skies
The leaves begin to rustle
I wonder if they whisper
Or if they scream at me too.
Do they ask why their brothers wilt right before their eyes?
Or why this black substance chokes them?
Oh if only, if only I could speak in their tongue.
I look to the trees
Maybe I can understand the language of falling leaves
Maybe I can find reason I their wilt
I go over to the tree
And feel its bark
Make jabs at its branches
There’s a lot I regret,
Maybe I can find redemption in nature
Maybe I will find reason, the reason I still draw breath
True beauty lies in the simplicity of nature,
Mother yearns for understanding,
But her children seem lost to the noise.