Pencil on Bristol Board.

Lately I have been dreaming of 

rising through layers within a 

living form made of 

desire for light.

The gentle light of 

May, in between the storms

flash and rage, filtered through 

just warming earth.

We rise and reaching for 

the blue space and 

reaching down for

into darkness for the power

that will drive us up

until we are pulled bursting

into this middle world 

scattered and groping

in the overwhelming of chaos of 

individuality

 hoping to gather ourselves together

for another spring.