omnipotence

There is purpose in the highs and lows.

Fly over rocky terrain 

entranced in sea waves, currents, 

light of the Moon. 

There is magic in the swoon, 

the dizzy heights, 

seeking ecstatic stars. 

Carry the seed below, 

stumble among rocks, 

tillable soil, 

carrying water, 

stirring the mud into food 

for hungry beaks, 

falling, entrenched, away 

from seeking. 

Solidly aware 

that touchpoint of glory 

above the waves 

remains.

June 6, 2010