Dreaming

I am the glint from the morning sun
that slants through the gap in the curtain;
I move in slow motion across your cheek,
as you measure the dawning.
I am the warmth of mid-morning on your skin.
I am the one that holds you -
I am the one that you hug.
I am the one that listens
as you murmur your dreams
to the sleeping clock.

I am the bee that nectars.
I am the road you speed along.
I am the mind through your hair.
I am the clock that ticks into your waking.
I am the mirror that sees you in frame.
I am the sand on which you tread.
I am the tree that shades you.

I am the rays in the water,
when you dip your toes into me.

Into you - I glided,
unknown, beckoned, apprised.
In you I found my me, and
gave to you my I …

I am the blood through your heart;
I am the coursing in your veins,
through every pore and round.

I sense a mystic moment,
like a birthing – the
acts of nature, moving,
sacred, and precious –
a hush – concentration and focus
as chalice of spirit is carried
through the air, to some
arriving, some sense of
doing, of being.

I am the whisper in the wind,
I am the breeze on your arm,
I am the sense of someone …
someone kissing on your cheek;
I am the voice you hear in reply …