Living Life, Witnessing Beauty Poem by Cat Singh

I quit my job, and I am walking
along the dirt roads in my
tiny neighborhood like I have
nowhere else to go. I don't.
What I have is an expanse
in front of me, a warm darkness
like an empty field in night time,
a hollow feeling in my chest
that is still filled with so much air,
and still a place to live, and still
a family, and still food and water
and lights.

I quit my job, and I am walking
under streetlights and stars
like I am the grass and the bodies of light
above me are the true human beings.
They are towering above me while bugs
weave in and out of my legs. They are
gorgeous and cruel and oh so kind
to each other. They kiss in the sky.

My friend sends me a text
while I am busy being a blade
of grass on the ground
of the universe. He asks me
where I've been, and what I say is
"Living life." I say "Witnessing beauty."
I say "Look at this picture of the sun
going down on the odd structures
behind my house. Look at the train
going by."

I am walking like I still have legs.
And I do. And I do. And I do.