The plant

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.