Friday, June 10, 2005

Vision Quest

Entering my dreams
waiting for visions
of my past to reappear:
a net of stars overhead
accented by the gentle pulse of
northern lights
brick red canyons
cold and sweetly scented desert air
sand between my toes
jagged mountains
strong and rigid
blacked out
against the moon
snow in my hair
wood smoke scented hair
the bitter after taste of
red, red wine
lonesome birch trees
standing stoically in the
ice cold winter sun
waves breaking on the rocks
far below
skipping pebbles
throwing rocks
dew drenched grass
seeping into my skin
endless sky filled with promises
All visiting me in turn
teaching me how to grow
if I would only
listen

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