The Calling

Surreal tree in lake

The calling is inside you
whether you acknowledge it or
leave it to be carried off by
wind or whim
or the cold seed of time
which grows leafless trees
and stark contrast against
the cityscape,
barren branches grasping,
weeping secret tears of joy
for connection to dreams within
that you at once shun
and hold against your soul,
for the seed
that may ripen on the vine or
follow the rocks downstream,
absolved of all pretense
and obligation
to be encased in the next life
or waking dream



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