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.