It was in this moment of
sweet morning dreams, after
the waking and then the next sleep,
just a little sweet sleep, but then
the dream came coloured with life.
A shoot appeared in green and grew
out of me, small and unremarkable
at first, just a little strange thing, a
curiosity of sorts, a wonderment,
but then it grew and grew and expanded
and reached above my human floor to
the sun that shone beyond and it
called the plant upwards, upwards
to the blue sky and the brightness above.
And as it reached and spiralled up
and up to god knows where, following
the lampish light, a bud formed and rounded
out with its heaviness, and as I watched,
the plant grew towards the giant above, the
bud swelling in its pregnancy; and as I
gazed in this lucid dream cast out at the
morning window of streaming light, I saw
the bud open, dripping, and from it came a child,
smiling, that looked a lot like what was once me.
The dream ended with a waking start,
and the sun brought blindness to my eyes,
and the dream stayed with me, refusing to leave,
and the plant that held the baby’s soul,
is still attached as I go naked
out into the waiting, calling world.