Swift Water on Stone

I was given the dream of the river;
of the sun on the water
and stony banks braced by pine.
I accepted the dream of the air and the sky
and the mountains,
with backs turned to the advances of eternity.

I took the dream of the eagle uplifted
and held it as a charm,
locked in the prison of only my eye.

I captured the dream of the wind in my hands
with touches as light as thought
landing and moving on, as dreams often do,
and in the process
I lost the dreams of the dreamer.

I released the dreams of society
and reached for the dreams
of the seasons,
with my own back turned to the crowd
like it was the winter
and I, with my eyes, was dreaming of spring.

I hoped for the dreams of the changing
of night-time to morn
and rain to the bringing of life.

I dreamed of the dream of understanding
the nature of nature
and the dreams that she can share.