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For betterment or for worse,
I bury my feet inches deep
And the tendrils of my awareness deeper still.
Here in the now and there in the then and
Ahead in the next, searching for the sun,
Like the grapevine growing in confines,
Not discouraged by its constraints, but
Vivaciously unfurling each budding hope
And chancing, and dancing with the wind.
And she isn't afraid to climb!
And she isn't afraid to die!
When the days get darker,
She doesn't resist and begins to let go.
Everything she carries - every leaf, every fruit.
She releases all that she created and all that she is.
Dearest, she flows with the ebb and
Flows with the flow
And she knows the impermanence of everything
She the knows this is permanent.
And Dearest, for betterment or for worse,
I plant you deep in the skin of experience,
And the muscles of all those who came before you,
And the jaws of a place often unkind,
With a heart that knows all that she knows,
And in your eyes are windows.
Grow, Dearest! Grow!