Rooted

Beneath the horizon
a low-lying vision
stretches before me.
This is where I live.

Here I am connected
rooted in the lost arts
rooted in the mystery
that lies
just below view.

Wisdom soaks in
like a blanket
in the rain
releasing mist
when the sun
bares all.

Roots find their way down
as buds their the sky.
Every blossom
is my blossom.

Come dawn
I will rise again
and not feel
so alone.

The Wellspring

Are someone else's hands
craftier than mine?
Is someone else's line
my line?
Another's circle
my emblem of eternity?

Is it their color
I want to match,
their vigor and poise?

Dangling in front of me
is my own conversation
My own high wire
to jump.

Here is my own fate to follow
My own soul to guide me
to the edge of the wellspring
where newness
beckons me to enter
and indulge in the great offerings
of life mixed with
age, masters and musings

and trust that the path
is already there
and all I have to do
is meet it halfway.

Flowering

Infused, I am,
with the spirit of life
coming through me
to be me.

Together we vibrate
at the threshold.
Resisting no more
freedom comes from
living at this peak.

Like flowering trees
in their ecstasy
showing all
I learn from the
innocence of clarity
developing my awareness
to include me
as I am one with nature
and a pure act of beauty
too.