In the dream I was dreaming,
the baby came in an unexpected way;
naturally, by osmosis of love and blood,
from the craggy depths of my womb,
my belly round and full as a spring moon
gorged with new silvery life,
unrestrained and fluid power of water
and light to create a new being.
Confused and drunk with night,
as dreaming so often can be,
I searched, unrewarded for the child
I was applauded to have brought forth,
asking the question,
"Where is the baby?"
He was nowhere to be found.
He is nowhere to be found.
My arms ache to hold him.
My heart is bursting
with all that emptiness
can offer.
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