The View From A Balcony

Opening your mind to new experiences and learning instead of staying closed off and narrow minded is a higher way of thinking.

If I’m on the balcony,

And you’re down on the porch,

We’re on two different planes,

And it’s only because I choose to be,

And I’ve touched the gravel,

Felt it beneath my feet,

A stone in the heart carved from the land,

And we all sat there,

Drying out our bodies in the unforgiving sun,

And the view of the earth is smaller from the porch,

Such a small scope to see things through,

How could we not be cruel,

How could someone not be melodramatic,

And that’s what we were, what I was,

Playing out life in some theatrical drama,

The porch is a tragedy,

And we sit there with our hats in our laps,

Letting the sun fry our heads, letting it,

And when our brains scramble we complain,

Complain about the damn fire in our hair,

Complain about our lives,

I was there,

And probably will be there again one day,

But when I make the horrid descend from the balcony,

And crawl down the stairs on my hands and out the door,

To the familiar broken porch,

I will know what to expect surely,

And yet, I’m probably still going to be miserable,

World weariness is an occupation,

Those who are employed live in a cubicle,

And look at the walls with resentment,

But they keep the job until they realize they don’t have to,

So then they move on and breathe,

They now go to the mighty balcony above,

It’s perched on the side of the roof,

Looking out over all providence and opportunity,

And you can see everything from its height,

The beautiful mountains trailing behind the city,

Rolling down into hills that fluctuate like the tide,

And the grassy plains fall into lush forest,

Their totem poles reach up and touch the sky,

With hundreds of smooth, tiny sequins,

Leaves caught in the wind,

You also see the many roads stretching out across the land,

Asphalt strips that ride the terrain and connect the people,

And then the buildings rise,

Stone formations of glass and concrete,

They rise like towers and call forth the people,

Who climb them and enter them,

The people are diverse and you can see them too,

Entering their apartments or crossing the street,

You can see all of this,

You can see good, wonderful things take place,

The innovations of the earth, change and modification,

And you can see bad things too, people’s own turmoil,

The chaos paints up the scene and corrupts it,

But the difference here is you can see things better,

Unlike the porch, things are in better perspective,

And instead of just seeing bad things, you can see it all,

So things aren’t that dreadful, even the black cat of my street,

Who stares at me with melancholy eyes,

And tries to dart in my path often,

The world is yours to claim,

And that’s where I am right now,

Seeing things in a better light,

I know the porch below,

I know the sky above,

And so this is my siesta,

My kaleidoscope of the world and its many colors,

No longer cynical of reality,

The view from the balcony,

Here right now.