Words Conjured Into Being

something conjured up

my eyes melt into colors
and shapes
and shake for a minute

my body lies prone
quiet

the tree outside my window
expects nothing
on it’s journey
from the soil
to the sun

magnificent peaks
and valleys
erupt with color
it’s the season for change
for insurrection

in the morning
we drink warm water
conjured up
by shamans
from the night

we talk of travel
to
far off places
we seek to connect
with the souls of wolves
and foxes
and the prey beyond the wind

some days we just sit silently
listening
to the sound of the wind
and the singing of the birds
our cave of invention
providing
shelter from the sin

while below
the valleys walls spill mist
and ancient rock
onto sacred graveyards
and burning grasses

we are the shamans
i speak of
now

the edge of the known universe
is kissed by our naked dreams
our hormones
ejected from us
into the vast ocean

so the ocean becomes our blood
and our birthplace
and our home

we are convinced
that the tree
cannot run from its fears
it must bury itself
and soar
to survive

and so we must
interpret
the ocean
the trees
and the birds
as something meaningful
as the story
we are captured in