We enclose space and
Then live within it
Happy and content
Others look and try to
Copy the efforts made
Hoping to come up with something
That can vaguely compare
Architecture is the highest form of art
The components going into a building
Are mostly air, just like spaces
Within stones and rocks
Hard to wrap our minds around this
It is not mystical but reality
We don’t know where the energy
From the thunder and lightning
Transfers to but it is not lost
A seagull floats into the wind
This is an effortless move
How many days or years would
It take to drive to the closest star?
While we amble around, tiny
Invisible specimens of life
Which we cannot see are alive
All about us with a keen purpose
Which we lack in our lives
The branches are waving,
The waves are rolling, but
Who has seen the wind?
A solid dark mass in the far sky
Breaks up and four blackbirds emerge
Where are they going flying as
They do over the vast body of water
They are graceful and continue until
Their energy is exhausted
Then what, we wonder
We could study, but so many theories
Are farfetched and strangers to what is
Deep thinkers are praised but often
Know less than a child who can find
Order in building blocks
We accomplish but are lazy
This is the truth of what is
Stanski
April 23, 2022. ^
Steve Haarman 