I want the edge of a child
in motion, unafraid
of stumbling, just in
the fair moment of absolute
presence, in the misty claw
of sweet anticipation,
with the world on its knees,
begging to unfold.

I want to walk
the wooden pier
of my favorite dream
meandering far
into an ocean without end,
just future after future.

I want to offer myself
barefoot to the sand, or
celebrate the first blossom
of a snowflake, and never fear
the sweet silence of winter.