This Land Was Made for You and Me
Despite my thoroughly outstretched arms
My fingers fail miserably to find each other's grip
On the unseen backside of this massive Redwood Tree.
Such is the case with my ambiguous dreams.
I reach and reach into the abscesses of my imagination,
But even then, a secure grasp is unattainable.
My dreams go beyond myself--
They saturate my consciousness like a heavy Appalachian fog.
They seep and trail into crevices too small even to be seen,
Blanketing the world as we know it,
With a shimmering, fresh atmosphere.
But one day,
I will hold in my own two hands, the pot of gold
Snatched finally and firmly
From the the tail of the effervescent rainbow.
And one thing I know, sure as the ground beneath my feet,
-- I will share the wealth.