The boy once asked, where does spirit lie?
The man smiled and gave a reply:
Good son, spirit lies on the ocean floor,
Where even those absent of light can endure.
Spirit lies in the music we compose,
And the reaction of an audience, a silent repose.
It lies in the words we speak,
Whether good or bad, silent or meek.
Spirit lies in the stories we share,
Many tales forgotten but more found everywhere.
Spirit lies in the flowers that bloom,
Their glorious art and patterns loom.
Lift your glasses, said the man
And see the world for what it is,
A connected entity, more than a rock covered with sand.