the outcome of a dream goes onward,
grows Godward, stretches starward.
When but a half-idea,
the seed that bore a world fell earthward,
found womb in mother wonder,
first thrust its being downward,
root worming water, sun unwanting,
first nature tied to shadow,
—ah, there the capsule rested,
unknowing, silent, maybe growing
sight unseen into the world!—
stirred secondly with sunlust,
a stream of white burst out and upward,
pulled capsule sunward with it,
broke surface taciturnly,
drank in the lighter water quickly,
green heavy graced its journey,
first nature tied to shadow,
its second nature stirred in sunshine,
grew daily closer, homeward.
Another winter weathered,
the outcome of a dream drives higher,
grows greener, strives skyward,
cannot recall beginnings—
too many roots crowd out the seeking,
eyes dimming, mind precluding—
can hardly know the living—
too many branches, leaves, withholding
pure knowledge, shroud being—
cannot know where it’s going—
too many woodsmen threaten asking—
but hoping, stretches sunward.
Continue, silent, homeward,
the heaven waits your journey upward.
Grow Godward, stretch starward.
