The Metaphor I Dream
This metaphor breathes
when I awaken
to a dull, gray morning
and the chill of a draft.
The colors of my dreams stir
behind the visions I see
while I shower and dress
to face duties of the day.
My meditation is of breath,
inhalations and exhalations of life
from all parts of me
and all who I am.
I stir to past love
but still a part of me,
the gentle, soulful whispers
of memory.
I am all who I am,
timeless incarnations
given another day.
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