I am the soil,

I am the soil,

A trickle through my fingers

The feel of it on my skin

The ripple of the wind

The fall of leaves

Too many sit in silence

On the verge of experience

I am not too far away

So very near

Almost among you.

The slippage of the earth pulls me onward

Over the sodden grass

The glistening of dew

As slick as the sweat

On a farmer's brow.

His broad back

Breaking over the plough

There is little rain

To come after

But the spires of a city

Climb high into the sky

Snagging the clouds.

A celestial cathedral

An eternal fresco

The whole of it will fall

Remnants are all I see.

Ghostly apparitions

Rivers of blood

Are floating within me

I am contained

I am the container

We are as alike as one another

Did I say that?

Out loud?

It seems apparent

Some words are written on the wind

I watch, as they flutter by

It is the end of a dream,

If that is what it was.

Warm rain falls

Washing the clouds away

The sky is refreshed

Nothing is the same

Although it is so familiar.

The woman on the hillside

Smiles in recognition

Perhaps her acknowledgement

Is all I need

To feel whole

And at peace with the world

Maybe for the first time.