Stepping on the Space Between Dreams

Staring through the frigid winter sky, I contemplate the stars,
Countless dreams tossed wildly through the deep blue velvet heavens, the lens into my soul.

They pulse and breathe these steadfast beacons, reliable sources of direction and truth.

Dizzy and tired, my head swirls with possibility and logic.

The stars reveal the depth of the sky the way sun and clouds cannot.

They’re burning masses traversing consciousness, bridging the realities of night and day.

At once my inner thoughts and feelings lay unprotected, dripping from my natural surroundings.

From a semi conscious dream-state, my minds meet and exchange crucial information.

From consciousness, I long for dreams, trying to make sense of my reality.

The stars form a cryptic map.

Curious and discontented, I consent to follow, all the while unsure where I’m heading.

I find myself stepping on the space between dreams and wonder why this path is so obscure.

Grasping at destiny my fists clench only air, fingernails gouging my palms.

My paths intersect and entwine rendering distinction impossible.

Are the stars really intangible white-hot masses extinguished long ago?

I refuse to accept the death of my guides and instead trust millennia of navigational certainty.

I must, for the persistence of starlit nights is my strength.


A Dance

I travel a worn path meandering through a pine insulated world kicking up the sweet scent of decaying leaves, nature’s debris and convention, at our feet.

Arched and entangled, a mass of delicate branches beckons me forth, and draws me aside.

Their thin green blanket of winter moss resembles a layer of snow enveloping the barren, naked trees of cold, northern winters.

Warm and moist, the winter of the south is alive.

Descending natural steps and sloping paths I slip toward the slick, jagged rocks bordering the rushing current, pulsating blood surging through an artery.

Saturated earth and greedy trees reach outstretched limbs to sate an unquenchable thirst.

They embrace the wind and embed their ancient wisdom and desire in my soul with the kiss of the breeze on my flushed cheeks.

How far is forever, the stream’s caressing flow wonders while hard edged rocks stab the water’s composed surface, cascading the swift current, quickening the pulse.

I wonder too as I reach toward a clear pool anticipating its cool touch.

I follow the current over rock and root to where the creek widens and empties into a placid lake.

Straining beyond my line of sight I hope to find an answer but meet instead a wall of foreboding trees, erect and stern, glaring in judgment from the opposite shore.

My rocky footholds are gone and I find myself sinking in sand and clay. Alone and exposed I crave the solace of my tree-lined creek, the lyrical dance of a heart tripping along a stream.


Falling Stars

Gray mist settles upon the day, a veil of clarity

Feeding the heavy scent of life in wet earth

Mist and mud awaken sun parched clay and soiled spirit

Damp earth and dead leaves sink under foot

We drink, the trees and I, and revel in cool redemption


The night, though, is clear and dark

My lucid haze gone

Shadow barren limbs stretch and twist

Exposed, cold wind ferries a cruel, drenching sting as

Petrified tears shatter a thousand year silence,

Stars falling from grace