Always Seeking Completeness

The sky is violet and thick as blood
awaiting the drip, the downpour
of gravity.
While the trees, ever green, absorb the sun spinning golden hues.

When blue turns to white I know it is closer to touch...
and still, my shelter holds me hostage,
always with promises of plushness.

The push and pull of all things is not irony, as it seems;
It is self-serving, sustaining of all things,
welcoming us to step out
and into the nearing of release.

Had I not looked up in a moment of reverie,
this miracle of movement would have passed
like green to golden, and violet to white...

I ache for the darkness because I am the light
~ and will sway toward it like a creature of nature ~
as surely as I will always
return.