Light and Earth

A Poem

As I watch the sunrise high, I wonder where and how my outstretched hand turns.

I wonder how and where my hand reaches you, and then you, and again you.

A multitude, a swarm, a convoy, a whole, in unison.

And so I keep watching, but this time I breathe more deeply, I breathe until I hear that sweet sound that forms and calms me; it truly calms me.

In my breath, there is also yours, and yours, and yours again, and then yours.

So I move closer, this time I move closer, and with my hand, I touch your wet bark, and then yours, and yours, and yours too.

I speak to all of you, yes, all of you majestic trees in the forest.

You teach me that everything is close, that everything is within reach, even the sky.

You teach me that I can touch the earth, that I can root myself in my body, just like you do, and then you, tree, and then you too, and you again.

Trees.

You are like hands that Mother Earth extends from beneath her skin, the soil.

You emerge like this, infinite hands with infinite arms reaching out to the sky, no, to the sun.

As I watch the sunrise high, I extend my hand too.

Who knows, maybe I am a tree as well, maybe I too come from Mother Earth and am an extension of her that breathes and breathes again, and again.

Breathe.

Can you see them, all those outstretched hands? Do you see them?

They are so different from each other, yet they all breathe from the same source.

The same and only source.

Light and Earth.