'Tis No Luxury

A reflection on what protects me from cynicism

Delight and joy are not a luxury for me.
My heart is often at risk of pumping cold blood. 
I find in myself a great need to see the world smiling,
as I smile back at it in wonder.

Joy is an ancient blade that must be brandished.
What else can slay the dragon of gloom?

And so I gaze at every sunrise
and chase down every sunset.
Mouth gaping like it was the first time.
Because to me, it feels like the first time.
And this tells me I am safe from the gripping,
cold, calculating, clutching hands of this age. 

The poison that says this thing is just this thing.
That a star is just a flaming ball of gas,
and nothing more.
I fear analyzing that doesn't lead to amazement.
I fear reducing Heaven down to a thesis.

Stopping to smell the roses is not a luxury for me.
I need to remind myself of how alive this world is,
and how alive I am to this world.

Every blade of grass, holding a drop of rain,
holding a world of things to know and love,
glimmering with the glory it is held by.

This is not a luxury.
This is a necessity.
Oxygen to my lungs.
I breathe in glory
and exhale wonder.
And my heart stays warm.

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