The Way of the World

The little boy reached the top of a mountain

Overlooking the sea,

Sitting in nature

He asked out loud

What is the way of the world?

Feeling the sun beating,

Warming him

Against his skin

Against the Earth.

Representing a new awakening in each rise.

A rest with every setting

What is it the way of the world? He asks.

Feeling the wind brush against his back

Pushing him to move forward

To keep going

To continue

What is your way? He calls.

Looking down at the current of the seas

Calm and cool

Which both crash and cradle

Which rinse him anew

What is the way of the world?

As he gazes up

Into the clouds overhead

And in the distance

In the storms that face

That blow

That also tire

Until the sun shines again

Proving it does

Showing it will.

He notices both pebbles jabbing underneath his feet

And boulders for a sturdy place to rest.

What is the way?

As he looks down

Feeling the stable ground

On which he stands.

Looking around him

At bushes and trees

That bring both flowers and thistle

Flowers lingering a sweet scent

A beauty

Thorns that pause his path.

To warn him of potential.

Of pokes

Of slices

Is this the way of the world?

In nature he asks

Wiser than he

Older

More experienced

Are you teaching me something in

The heat, the cool

The storms, the calm

The push, the pause

In the bush with both fruit and spur

He calls

All real.

All facets

All continuing to be,

No matter what others notice or believe

Are you showing me what I should be?

What I could,

Or merely what I am?

Am I the way of the world?

The ocean, the mountains,

The storm, the sun,

In one body,

One soul

Allowed to be

All of nature inside of me