WINTER

If these dreams were a season they would undoubtedly be winter. Creation exists a shapeshifter as great as water in the eternal winter of my mind; freezing and thawing and evaporating in untouchable perfection. I am but a body for this creature. What a curse for a being whose societal worth is measured by what their hands can shape from matter and how much of it and how quickly those hands can produce. What a blessing to ask what gifts were planted inside of my being to offer in thanks for a life.

Certainly I have come to realize that the seen is shaped by the unseen. Like following the ghost of water, walking in the belly of a forsaken riverbed; fingers flowing along the curve of great rocks carved smooth by water’s touch. Like being humbled by the open strait as it embraces a gale like an old lover; witnessing the force of invisible gusts standing water ten feet tall and barrelling down upon itself.

So like the river, like the wind, I let these deep winter dreams shape this jagged spirit smooth, so I may learn to hold all those I love without drawing blood.

Let these deep winter dreams stand my spirit tall as the sea dancing with the wind. Let me dream these snow-blind dreams while back in the world of form my body lay fast asleep on some rocky shore in midsummer.

I will wake softer for this winter.

I will rise higher for these dreams. And by I, know I really mean we. For who are we, if not eachother?