It is time.
Crawl up from the underworld.
Depart your long stay in
thick darkness and clay.
Find your roots.
Find your roots.
Follow - straight or
spiralling - to the surface and
into the humid,
star-storied night.
Proceed, slowly, yes,
but with the unyielding intent
to become the amazing thing
that you have never before
seen.
Can you feel your soft, tender body
up against the inside of your
dry, tight, skin?
The edge. The tightness.
It tears you apart...
this back-splitting longing to
be larger that that which has
contained you.
I know that dream.
.
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