There are dreams,
which pucker and shrivel
on the stem.
The erotic drip of juice from your chin
is not guaranteed,
no matter how intimate
I looked upon such a dream-fruit
There was grief,
and that old familiar smell
of truncated memories.
I had a mind, for a moment, to pluck
the shrunken, hard dried mass
and take it into ceremony,
but my hand stopped,
in mid notion.
What arrogance to think that any
intervention on my part would grant
a more holy passage
than Destiny’s plunk into the cradle
of leaf and microbes!
And that’s what I learned today
about dreams –
Sometimes, part way is fruition.
it’s best to simply step back
and let the energies
return to their Source for re-cycling.
So, to the being on the stem,
I bowed in prayer position
© 2010-2012/Jamie K. Reaser
Published in "Note to Self: Poems for Changing the World from the Inside Out" (www.hiraethpress.com)