Tangled branches

dreams of memory

fingered branches reaching for infinity
the slow dance of the manzanita
lends her curves to the mind
that spreads the spell of beauty

the sky is patient with its vast spaces
that open up awareness
in the soul that gazes
through the world

listen slowly to the vastness
whose speed is captured
by the still eye’s movement

the world is a body of memory
awakening through the long sleep
of dreams that layer into darkness

we carry the smooth shyness of surfaces
beneath our protective bark
for those who move through many surfaces
have many skins

we long for the touch that nourishes what we love
through transparent boundaries of skin

we love the world of soul we live in

we must love the mountains
and the smooth tendriled fingers of the manzanita
to span the world that lives between us

in a perishing world
we cannot decide whether we are seed or plant
to seek the present spring of nourishment
or survive the long dark winter
with resolute silence

the soul knows the seasons of its world
but we are children
who cannot see past many cycles

dream with the world
imagination is the flowering of earth
and what survives is what the landscape preserves
and takes into the subtle shape
our movements form

we are mobile creatures who have lost our roots
carrying seed pods waiting to explode
with blueprints for a world
where we can feel at home

when the great dreams of the world are forgotten
its species perish
and we who still live must gather the threads
and remember with vision

—Nicolo Santilli