There is a Man: a poem

There is a man who sees deeply
and after his waffles at the diner he looks at the toothpick he sees the tree
and each drop of water that nourished it and every mote of sun
and the flavor of the dirt it grew in
informs him of the frog that was slain there, nine months before the seed of that tree sprouted
There is a man who sees magic
the naiads swirling in his Dixie cup of water
the dragons roiling in indigo skies as
the goddess of night hangs the silver moon in a robe of stars
he can see those dessicated ghosts that swirl around you, cover you in layers, screeching to be heard
trying to fix something that broke before they ran out of time
There is a man who remembers what has gone before
every stinky, bloody historical injustice and stinky, bloody triumph
The story of every city, every tribe, every family, every journey
and he has learned every lesson
and understands the infinite divergent pressures that push from all sides
the precise weight of the katydid’s call factored by distance
There is a man who keeps his thoughts pure
and keeps his body and mind attuned and in harmony and acceptance with the rhythms of the Earth
as he rides this planet like a hurtling stallion through space and time
There is a man who plans beyond his time
and has a really detailed plan that lasts 100,000 years
and accounts for the even the hurt feelings of a stalk of broccoli
around 100,000 years from now
There is a man who does everything right
O cripes what an insufferable prick


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