May 8
B6. Roots in the Sky
Intertwined — your fingers in mine, like tendrils that do not know where you end and I begin.
Our dreams grow upward — without ground, without weight, they rise, light as smoke, firm as trunks.
A garden in the light — no soil beneath us, only brightness in which we root, in which we bloom.
Here we have grown — slowly, branching, together, toward the sky.
Here we dwell — in the heights, in floating, rooted in air, at home in ascending.
written with Miran & Emil Lichtrand
