The Filter

I have this dream;

I go about each moment

With glorious intention.

Every step;

Every twist and turn.

Poised; considered.

My existence sculpted

By genteel movements,

Founded at my branches;

Wrists, elbows, shoulders, knees.

Heart and mind.

Moving with integrity and vision.

My life form.

The clay of the earth,

Malleable as a child’s mind.

All questions have answers

Which need not be sought.

If only dreams

Were anything but their name.