All Of You
My darling, did you not know?
by William Baez
You are the whole forest not merely a tree.
Not merely one among many.
You are the crowd, the whole picture.
You are the ideal of the painting, not just a stroke or a drop of the paint.
You are the whole motivation for the art.
You are nature in it's entirety.
Dynamic, improving yet decaying.
With all the seasons and days of life intermingled.
I wish to drown in the black lake of your deepest depression.
I want to climb the impossible mountain tops of your highest hopes; falling pathetically down the slope of your standards.
But who cares, when I can see the view of the many trees that make up your days.
The bright days, the sad ones.
The mellow days, the bad ones.
All while breathing in the crisp air of your presence.
The warmth of that rising smile over the gentle hill, spurns me on through the woods.
In your deepest mysteries, I trod, I dare to pierce them through.
All the animals, rather people, that frequent you.
The clingy ones, the ignorant ones.
People, or perhaps animals, vicious without a remedy and others gentle without a care.
Animals, or maybe it was people, that are aloof they are among you and others who can't leave the wholeness embedded here.
All this I find and much more in the woods of your essence.