A single entity

Being human feels weird– sometimes I wish I was just being.

Being the sun as it rises in the morning, and prompts the songs and squawks of birds. Being a dance floor on a Saturday night as it feels the footsteps of fighters, lovers, and friends. Being the early rain on a Sunday morning as it washes the sky in its song and patters against my window, whispering me to sleep. Being a melody that sticks to an exciting, syncopated rhythm and being the instruments as they let out their song.

Being the ocean as it laps its waves against a crystal shore and being the leaves that dance in the wind as they drink in the sun and being the clouds that glide along the day with indifference and being a fire that crackles in the warmth of family and friends and being a moment so good people wish it never ends and being the laughter that exists between brothers and being the glances exchanged between lovers and being a facade in the French Quarter Sun and being the consistent beating of a drum.

The bird outside my window, the Eiffel Tower as the sun glows. Twisting Branches in the Bayou, the Mississippi River behind Audubon Zoo. The cracks in the streets that give New Orleans the character it deserves and laughter with friends so uncontrollable it hurts. The heartache of wishing a moment was forever and the grief of a fading home.

The moon lighting up the sky at night and the sun breathing life into the Swamp each morning and the Beatles when they wrote Rubber Soul and my grandmother in Art school and my Mom at a party in the eighties. I want to be my favorite Debussy song in pure, peaceful sunlight and Monet’s paintings of Snowscapes in Norway when he took a train from Paris.

So much being, so much to be.

What will I do as one single entity?