Needles Overlook

I’m that lanky man
With the dirty hands
With dry desert knees
Bare sandpaper feet
Short jean shorts
And a hairy face
I’m that layered man
Heart as deep
as the Marinas Trench
Thoughts as wide
As the grandest canyon
Romance as dense
As the Amazon canopy
Doubts as endless
As galactic parsecs
Hopes as luminescent
As the waking sun
Kindness encompassing
As a weeping willows’ reach
I am the man
Forgetful of unbridled freedom
Distracted from childlike curiosity
Chained down by normalization
Suffocated by the main stream
Limited by my own beliefs
I am the man
Who needs a star-filled sky
A half dozen shooting stars
A breakfast on a cliff’s edge
To breathe morning’s first air
And stretch under morning’s initial light
To sip high octane by the fire’s side
And listen to the all-time favorites

In order to see outside my own minuscule sphere
To remember with clarity who I am

I am the man who I am
And that is good and well enough