Is It More Wonderful Than That?

subjectively we experience a litany
of
joys,
thrills,
fears,
smells,
hopes,
colors,
dreams,
sorrows,
affections,
expectations,
creating a tapestry of inner majesty.
how can such great beauty be born of mere matter?
we are what we are, but what of the world of life around us?
and what of the marvelous inwardness of experience?
how is this less wonderful than a tree?
just because it is ours,
is it more wonderful than that?