This cosmos is playful
disguising itself as gods and chaos
still these canyon walls always echo
what I shout at it.
I’ll start believing in the chaos theory
when my shout, “Hello!”
comes back as, “Stop shouting at me!”
One plus one always equals two
though I heard a rumor that someone said it was three
unless you’re talking two conceiving three
as in making babies
I’ll trust my abacus
to count beads one two three.
Still there are mysteries
that lie inside me
answers like the spoken word
never to be seen
I don’t need to see the tree to know that it’s there
while I lie under its shadow
like I don’t need to see the breeze to feel her there
while I hide my soul in her shadow
while I try to breathe under water
I don’t need to believe that I can’t breathe
with my lungs filling with water
my feet are in control
til I just stand up
I was drowning
in a bath tub.
And when I rise
I take in as much air as my lungs can take
cause though I don’t see what I need
I know how to breathe.