You and This Life


Who are you if not
everything you have seen,
touched, explored, loved?
How can you be anything less
than all has made you?
How can you be less
than the ocean that,
inflected with your touch
as you first rediscovered her,
goes on to blanket the world
with her swelling tides and cries?
How can you be less
than the sand you walk upon,
hot and gleaming under you,
that tell a thousand stories
of wreckage and wanderlust,
and of the art of staying?
Look at that protecting sky
streaked with billowing dreams,
that passes from midnight blue,
through all the sea greens
to begin each new day
as only a golden miracle can,
and ends in ochres and fire
ceding to the witching, twilight hour.
In all of this, you are contained,
each varied hue speaks of you,
and the infinite pools of emotion
that live in each of your moments.
No, you cannot be less than all this,
and nor can you say you are more,
because you, against all odds,
have found yourself here, with all;
you are this life, and it you,
and in the stillness of a pause,
you notice all the wild joys and furies
come to rest in your caged heart,
and this the seed of your liberation.
– Tammy Takahashi