What's creation
that comes naturally,
What's beauty
that's not created.
Not under watch
Not by force
True being
stays true.
Heart-lines drawn
one to the other,
Echo of smiles.
What stirs, what tugs
heart and soul
to rock.
Sting of the eye
straight to the heart,
Pull of dream.
Held only in dream
Sprouted only with
mind's tears,
Still holding on,
perhaps, birth soon.
Chasing, capturing
glimpses of dream,
Shadows of dream tease,
Anchor intent.