The seeds of dreams
must grow unhindered
and yet, somehow
one touch of love
can nurture their decision
to begin to grow into
the very best that they can be
and mother nature does the rest

while seed and egg
protected for a while
finally hatch into
a tiny bird that needs
no more than nourishment
that it may grow its wings
with all the strength it needs
to simply fly away
still uncaptured by reality

Some seem to think that we can choose
which way a dream will grow
yet the power of our known reality
stands in the way
of each and every choice we make

Gossamer, the threads we spin
when first we let imagination in
and our dreams can be so easily disrupted
a breath too strong unraveling it all
a whiff of great emotion
simply cutting through
each dream we thought we knew
was here to stay

and we are left to play and pray
not knowing what to do
afraid to make a move
lest perchance we too
become unraveled
and trampled 'neath the hordes
that never dare to seek the dream at all

yet here, within our great unknowing
a quiet moment enters in
just when our movement
has been frozen
in the middle of its animation
and breath becomes so cumbersome
we seek to find
that space between all breath

and find a timeless, spaceless place
that lives without a fear of death
in living grace that heals
even as our heart reveals itself
beating still, beyond all breath

steady, sure, surreal
yet measured in its increments
bringing all our dreams
back into the stream of love again . . .


Copyright© 2000 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .