climb the stairs to my home.
sit down where my soul is bathed in the light that is often too strong for me to bear.
look out through the door to an alien nature that scares me.
laugh at the distractions I use to cover the walls I don't want to look beyond.
notice the places where it all merges together with your references to this side of the other.
walk with me into the garden which is off limits to exploration,
but where the water runs
as cold and soft
as it would for you and your friends.
gaze up from the forest floor to the falling sun that barely touches us.
read words of church that I too would love to emulate,
take as my own,
and shine upon you,
and everybody else beneath this passing light.
touch my hand and lie still beneath the magnificent portent of tomorrow.
blessed in the stratum of every single one if its magical possibilities.