rising

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we rise
although gravity and time 
may hold us in the cupping 
of their hands
we rise in a plethora of dreams
escaping above the vents
of circumstance
we rise into the tent
of all embracing;
and as if, and but, and still 
we rise into each contemplation
new as the reckoning
of togetherness
draws us to the breath
of our existence;
rising, always rising
to meet the air of every day
to stay through every 
active play and to meet
what will become.
the beauty of this world so much, 
that I must blink with astonishment
to hold back tears.
If I could not blink I fear, 
sixty per cent of who I am, 
would leave me, in abject eagerness,
to kiss the earth.

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