The wind does not tell me who I am today
or who I will be
It does not speak of promise
or play in my hair.
It does not whisper words of love
or calm my anxious heart
I still know it is there.
The sun does not soak into my naked skin
or heat my cold feet
The sun does not burn me
or light the fire that I need
The sun does not make the stars shine
or bare fruit to eat.
I still believe it real.
The tree does not dance before me
it does not laugh or sing.
The tree does not answer my questions
or give me spring.
The tree does not know my secrets
or correct my mistakes.
I still believe it is good.
So why do I doubt you when I can not see you?
Why do I doubt myself when I don’t hear?
Why do I need an explosion to prove anything?
When the slow, steady ways of the world are here.