the taxonomy of longing

there is something growing up the walls of my soul

something wild and deep, craving witness
but remaining nameless --
a ground cover threatening to swallow me whole

swallow me into swollen sunsets,
swallow me into the warm womb of love,
swallow me into the buoyant sky that calls me beloved

this vegetation of the spirit, it rebels against the flatness of days --
it calls me instead into three, four, five dimensions
with the siren song of burning pigments and verdant dreams

maybe, when the great fall comes, I will curse the bitter foliage of my soul

perhaps, even, it will wither in the frost of despair

but always, I know, in secret cover of night,
I will feel it sprout again
that tenacious perennial,
gripping to the walls,
climbing towards the light