My world
grows oh so big,

and I feel small,

though now the physical
equivalent of of a wild tree
grown full and strong and tall. . .

The forest grows
within itself
a brightly sunlit clearing.

It draws my heart,
my mind,
my every part. . .

Its incomparable aroma
fills my nose
on each in-breath. . .

Although my base seems rooted here,
the most important part of me
is aching so to go apace
smack in the middle of that space. . .

But my trusty head and deepest nerves,
which crave the mode
most assuring I survive
keeps interfering
in its fearing.

Will I,
much like a growing plant or tree
bend and rearrange myself
to spread my wings
and venture, uncloaked and high
into that light?

I am not sure,
but I daresay
the journey has begun. . .

I think I sense
I bend that way
a teeny little more each day,

and I’ll keep one ear fast to the ground
and another toward all else around,
wide open,
tuned to any sound
to find that strange and sometimes cryptic voice
that does all my best steering.

This entry was posted in Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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