fur, feather, scale, shell, skin, bone, blood,
like an infant discovering sound after sound
a voice is finding its tongue
in the slop and squall of birth
It sounds,
and we, in whom Earth chose to light
a clear flame of consciousness,
are only beginning to learn the language-
who are made of the ash of stars,
who carry the sea we were born in,
who spent millions of years learning to breathe,
who shivered in fur at the reptiles' feet,
who trained eyes and hands in the trees
and came down, slowly straitening
to look over the grasses, to see
that the world not only is
but is beautiful-
we are Earth learning to see itself,
to hear touch, and taste. What it wants to be
no one knows: finding a way
in starlight and dark, it begins in beauty,
it asks only time.
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I didn't choose this poem for any particular reason other than it stood out from the rest. I'd say I enjoy specific bits and pieces of it but overall, I wish i knew John Daniel's true meaning behind it. It is probably what frustrates me the most about reading others writing. I want to understand and acknowledge his thoughts just like i do my own, not only because I'm curious, but because what these words might mean to me, might not mean the same to him.
"the world not only is
but is beautiful-"
I feel like he can appreciate his surroundings, and a lot of other parts of Earth that we all take advantage of. I'm glad he can express that in his writing.
