the dreaming tree

i wish i could grow up again. not necessarily so i could change the way things are, but simply to experience things from new and different perspectives. maybe i’d live in california this time around. maybe i go to private schools. maybe i never play baseball. how would my personality and self change as a result of just a few differences? today at wal-mart i saw a mother showing her son a butterfly perched on a flower, and i sat there and watched the boy seeing with young eyes, eyes that haven’t seen the world for what it is. he was filled with awe and wonder, and he passed it to me, even for such a simple thing. i loved the place it took me–wondering about my own experiences and early explorations of life and the palette i drew from. and then i thought, hallelujah…there is so much more to learn, to see, to grasp, to ponder, to touch…to be.

i am
           a brok 
                   ,de)from(es   ne

fa
   ll
     ing                  and(my tree)
                 nwod 
                          (wounded)
             down               
                          do
                              wn    
 into what               softly
i               perc(bleeding)eive
             as
;evol                             

        and       i       am
                                            (enraptured(anew)