You want to cry aloud for your mistakes. But to tell the truth the world doesn't need any more of that sound. - Mary Oliver

A Dream of Trees

There is a thing in me that dreamed of trees,
A quiet house, some green and modest acres
A little way from every troubling town,
A little way from factories, school, laments.
I would have time, I thought, and time to spare,
With only streams and birds for company,
To build out of my life a few wild stanzas.
And then it came to me, that so was death,
A little way away from everywhere.

That’s the big question, the one the world throws at you every morning. “Here you are, alive. Would you like to make a comment?

I know I can walk through the world, along the shore or under the trees, with my mind filled with things of little importance, in full self-attendance. A condition I can't really call being alive.