Breathe
By Lex Krowley
He said, “Come with me.”
So I followed him.
(We may have been walking, perchance sailing,
Or flying, maybe never moving at all).
We came to a forest dark with enlightenment,
And moved by the guidance of fireflies
Through wooded halls.
We leapt across mossy stones
When we came to the river feeding the apple tree.
And sometime in the meadow,
Where the bees drifted aimless,
I saw we too floated.
Stars shot from the silver bow
Flared like fallen angels
And drifted to dust
That caught in my lashes.
And when the fog lifted, my companion
With his golden eyes and crescent of steel
Became shrouded in his night,
And pale I watched
For the end that never came.
We were at the roots of the dead tree, then,
When the squirrel yawned and awoke:
He shouted at me—I, the silly child—to go home.
I knew it was half-hearted;
He had to do his job.
And as I listened
The dead I sensed in the great bare branches
Breathed life
And the tree breathed with them,
Bursting to green.
My companion drew water from the well
And offered the tree quenched thirst;
He gave me what was left.
And standing on the great mountain
In the grand garden
‘Neath the glorious fortress in the sky
He asked, “Do you see?”
And I, understanding, replied, “No.”