Prose Poem: Spring

The green spring haze is ready to birth all living things
as soon as the word sounds.
I am the word.

Just yesterday I was laughing with happiness,
flying up on a swing over a spring pond.
I am spring.

I learned to walk on water —
the way to go, neither by foot nor on horseback,
neither by land nor air.

To exceed yourself
and be above your own expectations,
that’s what it takes to be yourself.

Green haze shrouds trees and sprouts leaves,
dissolves in the sky and opens mountains.
Fields flash with colours, birds soar into the sky.

To be happiness in the patchwork of life.
To be bright joy that transcends everything.
To live in a world beyond control
where miracles are possible.

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