Think, Dear Daughter Poem by James Murdock

If I have any advice it is to think
think think dear daughter
of actions as cannonballs laying waste
of words as timbers crashing down
splintering skulls so silent as snowfall.
Think of the world as a canvas not square
but everywhere free, your intentions the paint.
Think of cars as strange machines
that houses could be better, such dull old things.
Think of plants as people still good and
people as sad plants someone stopped watering.
Think forever on that interior space
given to us upon our fall from grace. Think
for those of us who cannot walk around
without considering our footsteps
ineludibly vehement and ever-precarious.
People sing forever only songs of death.
Think forever of their insanity and
sing the song of eternity in your low-lying breath.
Think of bluebirds as angels watching
who have transcended all this ground-dwelling,
living above wishing for better ways below.
But you can do more than dream.
As if dreaming were merely a thinking thing.
You may think and therefore grow
an idea which few will know,
that to be simple is to be free. That
nature is given anarchy. That thought
though burdensome can be filled with love.
That life like a spring is rising up.