Does the environment we see through the window define who we are to some extent?
Will my mental, spiritual, emotional awareness be guided by a different view?
Will I change?
For so many years I was meditating by looking far into the mountainous horizon,
by searching for the tree tops through the window first thing in the morning as I lay in bed quietly, listening to morning sounds,
by appreciating the horse in the meadow as the welcoming committee here,
by the little chipmunks so busily running from my car to their hide out under the old Maple tree in front of the house,
by experiencing the calm in my heart seeing the cords of wood waiting for me to warm me up in the wood shed,
by viewing my flower gardens blossom and splatters the vast green around with colorful dots in the summer.
Will I change?
If so, what will I be?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great poem, really like it, a great write. May i invite you to read my new poem called, Evil Rising.