Poetry

I still have visions
Of a late summer meadow
Full of purple, white and gold,
Reaching from the rotting dank
Drawn by warm sun, yellow
In a white sky

I still dream of times
In ideal youthfulness
Full of purpose and right
Drawn by an inner sense
That reaches from soul to soul
In ever growing connectedness

I still see the soft moonlight
Reflecting off the smooth ocean
Where water lies still to seek
The next new purpose

And in days of howling wind
When purple petals tear from their flowers
When churning waters swallow the moon
And we scatter ourselves into
Small pockets of fear and worry

I still dream the heart way
Connections of souls on fire
Of faces lifting fog from minds
Seeking the clear, brilliant rush
Of knowing.