Last night I slept soundly and deeply.
My eyes closed, locked in a fit of flutter; I dreamed.
My body light.
My mind at ease.
I found myself in the hills above my spring fed creek.
The grass rattled; my bones shivered in cool evening air.
Feet above earth
mind over heart.
I realized the dream
the moments stretched into hours of lucidity
I unfurled my arms and flew.
I claimed the reverie tight, between my lips.
I dressed in the moment, wore it light, around my hips.
Blond hills rose up in tender waves
washed me through levels of grief
cured my bruises and wounds
edified me
released me from self doubt.
The cheat grass knew my name.
Undulating color brushed over the dimness of my eyes:
I held on.
I held on.
I held on
to that scrap of fabric, crisscrossed with stitches, busy with unfolding the corners of my core.
And the softness of dawn
dawned on my dream.
And I knew to:
Let go.
Let go.
Let go
of the space of the in between.
My purpose redeemed.
My body revived.
My wandering felt complete, necessary,
less lost and ripe with potential.
This morning, the world seems to gleam
after I haunted the space of the in between.