It Is (a.k.a. Optimistic Ode)

This poem is symbolic of a birth.
It’s a symbol of death, knowing the dearly departed are in a better place.

This is another so-called poem
that will make you happy
until you become sick.  This is a poem to
make you piss and shit and vomit
rainbows.  Your nose will run streams of crystal
clear, blue water–the freshest springs amongst springs.
Bluebirds, singing, will fly from your ears.
There is no enlightened message,
but these words will create a mystic hum,
resonating throughout your body.  Reminiscence
will erect goosebumps upon your skin, and
your lungs will be squeezed breathless from excitement.
All to a soundtrack of
children’s laughter.

This poem is the sharp, quick pain of a perfect high-five.
It’s your horoscope, reading valiently in your favor.

Every word here, even if your name or good deed has not been mentioned
specifically, is a compliment to your purpose on this earth.  The sun shines
as raindrops of flower petals cascade upon the earth, blanketing
the ground, as balloons tied to trees with changing foliage soar
toward the sky in fruitful bouquets.  This describes the initial
comfort moment when your head hits the pillow as much as it explains the simple fact
of your ability to rise out of bed every morning.  It’s the revelation that
you recognize yourself as an individual, and you don’t give a damn
about what others think of you. This is a lesson learned from
a mistake.

This poem is the caramel oozing out of a chocolate.
It’s a play bite from your pet, drawing blood.

Here is that love-at-first-sight moment;
it’s the convincing of the disbelievers that such a thing is not
nonsense.  Each other’s eyes, after pupils expand like arms stretching
out for a hug, penetrate their opposite’s
parted lips, revealing ivory symbolic of wealth.  It’s not
monetarily wealthy, but mentally rich and,
of course, aesthetically pleasing–to state
the obvious. 

This poem is your mind and body revving up from a sip of coffee.
It’s a breath of fresh air.

It’s the flickering flame upon a white candle, which
is standing confidently upon a perfect dinner date dilemma’s table.
It wavers, like one’s unconscious uncertainty despite
exuded confidence, doubting the right things are said
and the gestures are chivalrous.  It’s always the blue layer
which is the most exciting and eye catching, emitting exploding
heat and color more vibrant than a grand finale
fireworks display, or the quintessential and well-timed
goodnight kiss.

This poem is a thank you.
It’s a simple smile.

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