..as I dream the roots eat me away..
   As the roots eat me away, I dream of me..

Like a hole, the wound is where we grow
As we bore the nurtured seed unfolds
Plastically mending it bends to reach the essence
The intended ascension vitaled in presence

Gemination sundered
             the pollen,

cleaved from the stalk..

              Redeemed from its
betrayal of peace..

influencing the toxic earth..

the sprouting wedding oceans burns,
trembling hymns of ****** appeal,
plumes to spread like butterflies eaten in flames,
prayer churches spawn the light,
web of magical design,
hive sheltered in the sublime Universe.

i the wild seed blew in my youth
floating on the comfort of any wind
that would carry me high for a broader view
and a little closer to answers of truth.

no direction is sometimes a beautiful thing
responsible for what only concerns you
not landing long enough in soft sweet earth
to put down roots that always longed to grow.

i had dreams of a constant love to put seed into
but the high winds blowing outside roared like the sea
enticing me to be carried on the easy breeze
but the easy way is often a cold hard rain.

the wild seed was called by the high winds
blowing inside warming me with wanderlust
caught between two lovers was never a hard choice
because the high wind was my first love.

i blew thousands of miles and light years away
landed in the soft sweet earth of a girl
a childhood sweetheart often remembered
partly the reason I blew in that direction.

the seed lingered too long in one place
the roots got a foothold in the soft sweet earth
the high winds tried to pull up the roots
causing pain in me and the soft sweet earth.

the germination of the seed caused more pain
seed to maturity isn't the easy way
each stage causing new dimensions of pain
though pain can also be the sweetness of love.

through decades and millions of light years
I have grown in that soft sweet earth
two more seeds and deeper love stemmed from it
as I ignored the tempting lure of the high winds.

but I still listen as the high winds call
sharing this pain with the ones I love
waiting to one day fly high as I once did
though it could never be the same as before.

she too was a wild seed flirting with higher winds
now waiting with me to one day fly again
as we watch our children sail in their high winds
both of us feeling the roots being pulled
and the winds starting to lift us to blow concordantly 
in a higher wind than we have ever known.