LOOK CLOSER

There is a world

beneath our world

where the windchimes dance

and ring

where silver sparrows whisper 

the eulogies of dying leaves

where the nearby traffic 

grumbles its way into its

smoggy oblivion

where the orange tree

stands at mute attention,

but casts a daring look

at the nearby swarm 

of hovering bees.

There is a world

beneath our world

where roses hum like a choir,

their outstretched petals raised

in reverance, their 

harmonies pure and tight. 

It is a world where the wind, 

like a genie's carpet, 

flies in and sails by us, 

fluttering the hairs on our flesh, 

and where  the sun

when it moves but an inch, alters 

the multitudinous shadows.

It is a world beneath

our world that is always

alive, but is only truly

witnessed in the silence

of our profound stillness.