Personal Work: Invisible Streams

Invisible Streams

But the eagle.
The eagle rests admist the crisp,
pungent fragrance of the cedars,
fresh and sharp.
Crystal brooks with sandy bottoms
meander through the darkened
floors of silent cedar groves,
the warm summer light mixing
with the pine cloaked earth below,
the musty aroma of their union
raising a maternal embrace to
the forest above.
You look, you watch, you see
but are unseen.
You raise up, empowered on
invisible streams.
What do you see?
Beyond? To the secret places?
Will you tell me where they are?
How small we must seem.
How foolish.
Are you laughing in your wisdom?
Will you take me with you?