canopy wallows

wind blowing through flossing the leaves
a violent elegance seeps into a whirl
brilliance in touch with a clasp of a hand
no body preserves your thought
as it has been tossed into the leaves
tattered catchers grab at the thought
but know that grasping is learned
cascading now up so high, a plummeted course
wandering, searching for new light
a glistening sun beats onto the forests floor
punishing tree tops, creating cries of green
this compass arrow finds you a direction
did you ever know the direction you needed?

so lost in thought, as it blows above
the compass shows direction
but directions have no meaning

this pathway of brush
this stairway of bark
this monastery of life
this portal of wind

with everything in hand needed to succeed
you still cherish what is in demand
this body of yours, not connected to your hand
tear falls across your ruptured pocket
leaving a scent, knowing you are real
listening now is poised into your hands
a wallowing fulfilled command

spin around and climb the tree
for fruit does not grow where lost ones grieve
the canopy rises open on a rising descend

the wind now a breeze
a thought falls upon
with vision you can see
the path that you shall run