Sometimes,
in the Land of Dreams
I can see my own karma
a flicker
of flame
like those ashes that shoot up
from a summer bonfire.
Tiny lick of a second
Before it fades
I reach out to capture it
like a firefly in a jar,
But with a kiss of white heat
It is gone.

Sometimes
in another land
I am an archeologist
digging deep into the Earth
uncovering secrets
revealing artifacts.
Looking for the bones
of my past existence.
Searching for selves
I cannot remember
In order to  hold them
Up to the
Light.
Then after digging,
behold the curious sight:
Me, on the earth, on my knees
mouth open in amazement…
for instead of bones
I have found fire opals
slipping and sliding through my fingers
Cool and smooth
glowing in the night
their brilliant iridescence
lighting up my palms
like a dance of fireflies.

And then,
A most peculiar event;
A hot crimson glow
Emanates from inside, above
And below


Could it be?
Is this real?
I check once, then twice
Yes, my very bones
have turned into opals
Making me gleam from within
Sending out messages of light
Into the full dark
Of the deepening night
Trying to catch a signal
in the air
crackling along those roots
hardwired within .
Roots, like bones.
Growing deep into the earth
where precious stones reside
I am at a loss for words,
just feelings now
and have completely
forgotten my pride.

And  I stand there,
in contemplation,
all lit up from within
radiating light
unto every direction...
I think:
"This is the place to begin."

And all at once
in the blink of an eye
the opals pour from me
right out
And as those fine stones
slip from my bones
I know I have changed
both within
and without
the fire implanted inside
never to go out