I dreamt in a green meadow
I held my life
the all of it a small nut
a pretty stone
all me not anything else
at the vague edges of my dream
monsters lurked or maybe fears
someone could take this away
I could lose this
then what would there be
what would I be
I held on in winds and torrents
in my dream I dreamt them
storms of grabbing hands
I still had it
but couldn’t see the stone
in my aching hand
under layers of earth
the iron of my hand
a hard shiny shell
then a new dread
it reached up for me
I threw it
and my hand as well I think
and then
empty at ease
the meadow was mine
the forest the sky was mine
was me
hands running leaping like deer
living wind
an opening
a joy
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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