Dec 15, 2025
I lay my dreams beside the yellow tree; gasping for air, but no hope to breathe. Someday, I’ll come back so they may be. Until then, inevitability aims me. “Go forth”, “return”, “save me!”…cries I hear from the unchanging. Could they ever believe I’m not what they see? Form changing to each degree. My rivers are blocked, as I leak into their creeks. Reaching to catch where I meet defeat. But, so I lay my dreams beside the yellow tree, until I find some place for them to be. Where o’ God might I find thee?