oh how he loves. he loves the world, the way the air fills and feeds his lungs, the way the trees shake with wind. the way the grass waves hello to him whenever he walks outside, and flowers bloom from his footsteps wherever he walks.
the sync of the world thrums under his fingertips, like a pulsating heart, a heartbeat in motion. He loves his mother and his brother, and he loves his sister. she's so wise and adventurous, what he would do if she ceased to exist was beyond his comprehension.
he loves the world, and the world loves him. He is life and life is he, and there's no other way he would have liked it. sure, there's sorrow. lots of it, actually. sometimes it consumes him, it leaves him withering on the floor, choking and crying, because he cares. why would he be sad if he didn't care? if he didn't care, what was there to be sad about? and he cares so dearly, so much about every being of life and their soul and the individual magic that fills their heart. what is sorrow without joy? what is happiness without sadness? it's nothing, a blank. and he just might be the complete opposite.
the way the wind blows in between each hair strand, each curl and root that attaches itself to his head. each single meal he consumes and every more music track he listens to makes him more and more grateful to be able to taste it, and to hear it.
the feeling alone of just being conscious and here, and present, and existing is enough to overwhelm him. he can't believe just how much it fills his heart with hope and joy.
he loves the world so much he might just cry. tears are blue, and the blue in the sky is the ocean, and the ocean is tears.
YOU ARE READING
book of words
Poetrysince i write a lot of these note vent stories, why not just make a whole aess book abt it? each chapter is gonna be a different vent thing that i write. so uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
