To Be

What a wonderful thing it is

to know light from dust.

To know plastic from purgatory.

To know the dandelion covered hills

from the medicine cabinet above the sink.

To think that there is so

much

art

in just the ways in which

we move our two feet.

 

To look out at sunlight

and know there are stars,

and houses,

and kites in the wind,

and that we, on this Earth,

have no place in this world

because we are not with any purpose

but to simply "be."

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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