Hang down tree-lifted resting place,
float above my head.
Sail to a place that is elsewhere.
Where dreams exist as reality,
where light and life mix to bring me home, to settle
into a cool clear vision of satisfaction,
bathed by a verdant landscape
of change, survival.
To wake unknowing.
Dreaming, lift me, carry me as air
drifting through skies changing constantly.
Travel lightly casting heavy dreams downward.
Pick me up, take me to the riverbeds passing,
never to say the same.
by Judith Blankman