Tryd

When I reach out to feel the sky
what is attained is not the same
as what is in my grasp
nor is it what was imagined
Yet the stretching that occurs
at the core of my body
is the treasure gone untouched
unrevealed until this time
Like two birds that leave the nest
one must soar above the earth
one must descend to the ground below
the beauty is that they made the attempt
gentle words sooth the lobes
Honey stolen from the hive
is bittersweet
Honest souls bind together
A dethroned king will wash
his servant's feet
Had I never stepped across
the rainbow on the seashore
the silence, once held, would
have been as the wind
moving patiently thou
an empty tomb