The Ground of our Dreams

and the tree
said to the leaf -
"I let you go,
for you belong
not to me,
but to the wind
who makes you dance,
to the sun
who laughs with you,
to the moon
who tickles you
with her magic wand,
to the rain
who softens your fall,
to the earth
who gathers you
anytime, into her
wide open arms,
and so go,
without a turn
of your sprightly face,
as I watch you
weave your blessed path
across worlds,
into the ground
of our dreams -
those we hold
close to our hearts;
for our dreams
are not
castles built in clouds,
they are the seeds
planted
in the core of our being,
they are the roots
that give us wings
to rise and fall
all over again."

Ground

and I must not forget
that I stand today,
not upon the shoulders
of those long left,
but upon their hearts -
who, though terrified
to look into the labyrinth
of light and dark,
led me into
the presence of things
that I can only add
to my growing years,
stitching up the ground
so I can stand
and peer into
my own roots
and wings,
of darkness
and light.

The Way

and I watch them go,
as I watch the waves
parting
from the stolid shore,
knowing that they leave
but not knowing
when they will return
in another form,
revealing the ground
that appears
for me to walk on now,
as I take the next step,
only the next one,
into the emptiness
of walking with myself,
alone.