To Be

Here before my waking eyes,

In the hills of San Miguel,

The world unfolds its majesty,

A life force, impossible to quell.

Piercing through the morning clouds,

Over the hill, the sun does rise,

Dusty grays blend to whites and blues,

As Monet paints the impressionist skies.

From lime to sage, myriad shades of green,

The breath of life, wind in the trees,

Speckled with flowers, purple and yellow,

Fruit and nectar for the bumbling bees.

The beetles mine the untouched earth,

While cattle roam, foraging the ground,

The percussive beat of the hummingbird’s wings,

Birds chirp and roosters crow, a symphony of sound.

Here I sit in this Garden of Eden,

A witness to life in its purest form,

Spirit, essence, its abounding presence,

The sun on my face, its light so warm.

To live is to be in this very minute,

To bury the past and its haunting ghosts,

To release all fear of future uncertainty,

And to be present to the beauty that nature boasts.

In my active mind, I get so distracted,

Passion I desire, a strong sense of direction,

Wanting to know that my life has meaning,

But in thinking, I miss this moment of connection.

To be in the present, fully here in the now,

To be immersed in nature, wild and free,

To leave yesterday behind, setting tomorrow aside,

That is what it means to live, put simply, to be.