A Seed About to Grow – A Poem

Sometimes,smaller

when I am asleep,

I dream of who I used to be,

who I left behind.

I can usually see his shadow first,

made of smoke and mist.

I watch as he stumbles,

as he tries to do

control a body

that is no longer his.

I approach him and he starts,

frightened of the mist

becoming another.

“I thought I was alone down here.”

He says.

“I’m always alone.”

I pull him into an embrace,

try to communicate everything

I wish someone had said to me

while I walked around

inside the darkness

of myself.

“You are not alone.”

I say.

“I am always with you.”

I stand back to brush a hand

along his brow, hoping that

he can feel the light

I’m giving

him.

As the darkness begins to lessen,

and the brightness of reality intercedes,

I look at him,

at me,

one last time.

I see a kernel of light,

pulsing in his forehead

where I touched him.

It is a seed

about to

grow.

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