Poetry Again: The "Business" of Being

                                                        ~ The Business of Being ~                                                  9/24/12

There is a gift, a gift of sound...it travels lightly, above the ground. It follows closely to every word, it travels freely from the beaks of the birds. The gift of sound jumps up the steps, of black and white keys, and escapes in yelps. The gift of sound breaks way from the wind, in the echo of the motor, or the splash of a fin. Over ground, and under water, from the voices of our sons and daughters.

There is a gift, a gift of hearing..it's possessed by the ones who can see, sounds of subtle - similarity.

There is a gift, a gift of sight...it awakes in the morning light. It shows it's self even in the dark, by the shine of the tiniest spark. It pierces through the open soul, when used to imagine the invisible. The gift of sight paints color, blues, and golden, towers and boulders. It drops it's wrapping at the moment of birth, eyes are opened and worlds break forth.

There is a gift, a gift of seeing...it's used by the ones who can hear, angles and images call their names, and reflect imagination's happy tears.

There is a present, a present of touch...it arouses understanding in the heart of us. It waits along the potter's wheel, until soft hands advance, and feel. The present of touch dances on electricity, through ones fingers, and rises on hair's end. The present of touch grabs for your hand, it brushes against the legs of your pants, it pats it's great tail and falls in your lap. Like a kitty, it purrs, and relaxes.

There is a present, a present of feeling...it can be owned by the heart of a person, unwilling.  It can open our eyes, and stuff up our ears, and un-noticeably associate with the memories of past years.

There is a present, a present of motion...it sways back and forth, like the waves of an ocean. It slides up and down the slanted desk, it ripples, and prances in the skirts of a dress. It raises it's arm, and lifts up it's chin, it  pliés, and curtsies, and whirls like the wind. The present of motion blows in the sail, and presents it's self to the sailor who has awaited it's bail. 

There is a joy, a joy of acting...it picks up the senses, and gets your laziness packing. It is the accumulation of sight, smell and sound; motion moves it's legs around and around. It'll walk on sidewalks, and romps through the woods, it even flies with the arrow of  the good ol' Robin Hood. The present of acting, or doing, or being...it is the poetry of the gifts we've been given.

There is a joy, a joy of life...there is a joy, a joy of being alive. It is realized by the individuals who see it as being worth the while. They are the ones who take advantage of it's many gifts, and breath, and move, and thank God with it's "business"...

~ AJ. Childs