The grace of dream
The chains of sleep
circle my mind,
wakefulness descends
as the grace of dream.
When the sun kisses
these young grasses
the great trees too
drink of light.
Darkness dissolves in
this rich soil,
it stands underneath us as
the earth of questions,
this mystery that is
the twin of knowledge.
To respond to the two
in equal measure is to
hold the roots and leaves
of this existence,
the beginning and end
of growth in
this empty void,
day and night flickering
in this silence
where all things
come to one.