My Aim

I aim to touch the roots that make me grow.
....whose coruscant reflecting moments,
like doorways in a vast hall,
with mysterious cavern lighting.

Frequently I travel there...
singing morning birds,
waves washing over my toes in mushy sand,
resounding thunder of juicy intimacy,
the delicate play of conversation.

Mostly I am,
intently gazing upon
what I can surmount,
yet fueling me is your
Grace and majestic splendor.

And when lucky I catch glimpses,
invigorating my cells,
leaving me dancing,
bliss filled.

No lonely moments here.
I recall where my roots lay,
... tediously I feed them.

I aim to touch the roots that make me grow.