deep, deep beyond the starry sky
and wind that carries clouds,
inside the liquid crowds
of colored birds that climb on high
there is a forrest...

where the ground is soft
lain beneath curled fallen amber leaves
it's trees are elegant
tall
silent

and yet - there is song
and yet - there is something screaming

pulsing and echoing through the forrest
a soft and turning call
through the willows, ash, birch and pine
through the blooms of dog wood, cherry blossom and crabapple
along the hillsides, crevices and paths

among the trees
is the winds eternal searching call
awake and calling to carry birds
but there are no birds in this forrest
there are only wild trees, ground and fall
this forrest extends forever
and the wind calls

deeper inside the forrest there is a pool...

a lake of warm crystal clear water
running deep
but to look, it is clear through to the bottom
its surface is ravaged by the surging searching wind
and when the trees lean its way and touch their leafy fingers upon the water
both are accepting and touch

at a far earthen bank the trees give way
and step aside to patches of spring clover and wild blooms
which extend and open into a lone windswept meadow
opening into the long runs of green and butterfly like wild flowers
and eventually giving way to straw and grass
and the soil turns to sand
and the grass to stone

it is here the wind tears itself
and ribbons the spiralling towers of sand and stone
searching
digging deeper as if diving below the surface
but each hole is filled with the thrown and shifting sand
in this unrequoited dance of berth and birth
dreams and nightmare motion
shapes with out substance changing with each conjuring touch
round and round

and turning and turning
until the very wind exhausts itself and becomes quiet

here there is a beach
the sand is flat and still
the sea is silent
waveless, tideless
empty salty grave
still

there is no wind and a flat orange sun hangs high in the pale sky
still
such peace

there are no shadows
only raging quiet

this is where the world ends
this sea extends forever quiet and flat
deep and dark

and somewhere far beyond the distance and deep into the infinity there is an island
a patch of bleach white sand held above the surface if this still silent ocean extending into eternity
and the sun hangs high

and on this, a single leafless tree

its twisted reaching branches
its flowering life frozen in time
its anchor trunk, buds and bark, frozen and ignorant of awareness

here is where the world ends

the only passenger
eyes tight
shallow steady breath
it a single small black bird
sleeping and unaware that the island only exists in the mind of the tree
frozen in time
dreaming as its life pulses and echoes
dreaming of the night and wind it has never known
dreaming of the deserts and beaches
dreaming of the butterfly clover, deer trails and hollow places
dreaming of awakening and of carrying and of you
dreaming of awakening
dreaming of dreaming because

deep inside the bird there is a forrest


...and in the collage all things are real.