Creation

Last night, I dreamt:
I stand in the shadow of a tree
With branches reaching to the skies,
Bouquets of fragrant flowers swaying, free;
I marvel at the grandeur, hypnotized.

It towers over thorny landscapes,
Its roots crawling over infertile soil
With a gentle, yet persuasive, winning charm.
Be not deceived, for it knows of toil,
Of famines fought, of malicious swarms.

I take pride in its benevolence,
Its charity of compassion, of sanctuary,
Its rich, contagious energy evident
Beyond my comprehension or capacity;
I take comfort in its arms, confident.

This morning, I woke up
And strolled over to the sunlit windowsill.
I smiled at the budding potted plant
And watered it with all my hope and will.
Perhaps this time, I'll be triumphant.