Paths

The moment when one sees
his dreams taking their first cautious steps
in a tentative dance with reality.

The eyes have difficulty believing.
This place where dreams and reality dance
is not in the repertoire of rods and cones and the occipital cortex.

I have a frontal cortex.
Things are orderly, arranged just so.
The paths are lined with cobblestones.

Where I am going,
there are no paths.
I know not where to go, but how to go.

I am scared.

But this dance, this irresistible, most beautiful unity,
its steps ever so slowly gaining surety,
even edging toward grace...
it is just beyond where I can reach.

This is the moment of letting go.

Sweet + Simple

I think this is just perfectly sweet and beautiful.