i may slip, i may trip,
but i'll never lose my grip.
I keep on this tip — words spill from my lip;
my cup overflows,
and i sip.
as sure as the path cut in the air by an arrow
is my manifest destiny —
to open and unfold.
i'd give my left arm
— NO! —
i'd give my body
to be reborn as a tree,
limbs spread and
roots
jacked
in,
whose only job is to co-mingle earth & sky,
and whose true pleasure is the yoga
of ST R E T C H I N G
just a little more each day.
in my dreams, i fight the battles my ego picks
on a different field
than the sun-drenched day's.
in my dreams,
i find myself miles underwater
and running out of air --
but, i can breathe this liquid,
and i am suspended in amniotic bliss.
i dream that i fall,
and the ground spells my doom
in a green and growing rush
— BUT! —
i deny its eager embrace
by reclaiming my wings
and carving my lucid joy into the sky.
you may see me falling
on the other side of night —
don't worry;
i'm just picking up speed.
-------
undated, untitled, from an old journal
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