Awake  

Liquid surreality, wrapped in the soft slow cocoon of
wintersleep.  We dream in that close heaven,
our chests rising and falling together- words interweaving
themselves before a new poet's eyes..
Sunrise brings hope of brightness warmth,
that first pure rush of spring.
 
Can you hear the songs of
all the visionaries,
shamans and shimmering beatitudes,
the multitudes of all who have
suffered for that great silent echo of
love- traced incandescently through
everything we taste touch and see?

© 2008 Ryan Baier