by Rand Raju
Like water in a green field, conscious existence stands out.
As you get closer to the river, the grass in the field is muddled with mud.
Here you muddle with wet boots through what could, or could not be called existence.
The ground is wet and caked with mud, but there is grass.
Where is the fine line between dry grass, wet grass, and the river?
The wind blows, able to send a chill down one’s spine.
Some water is carried, so does that mean it is wet enough for conscience?
The bird, like the science of humanity, plays in the water, testing existence.
The river flows back to the green mountain of the green valley.
It is unknown if the clear, blue river makes it up that jade mountain, into the silver clouds.
From your vantage point, all you can see is the blue river, and then it stops at the striking mountain.
Does existence extend to the heavens, or does it not.
You would have to go to the mountain to see;
But that would require being on the mountain;
Where you imagine all of your worries about catching fish are gone;
You can make an endless salary there with all of the ripe, juicy peaches…
Of course, provided, the river called Existence flows through the mountain.
Art by Simone McKinney, Grade 7