Repeating Dream

cali mist, cold morning
sweater weather...
the wooden side boards creak in the breeze
framed by the sky, the house stands in contrast
salt, earth, grass
you feel it,
more than feel it, you can taste it...
the gravel road I must have travel,
without any memory of doing so
a single tree, twisted, knotted, reaches for eternity
but fails.
it’s been here too long, lived too long, seen too much
defiantly it holds fast
and the earth to which it clings is sorry
sorry for resisting timeless roots
engulfed by branch and trunk a play house is now all but one with the tree
the graying wooden planks creak, but they are the tree now
both alive
perhaps... alive
whatever this life form is, you feel it
the same as the earth around it
but this is different
it feels of unspoken, the unknown....
no, possessed, I am drawn toward it
I begin to climb
each aged step
rusted nail and mossy board
the feeling grows stronger and I can’t help feel the spirit invade my body
it seeps in as if my skin, the barrier between me and the world, is nothing more than
a fiction, a lie
against this invasion I have no defense
nor do I want one
dripping since the beginning of time, the sap runs dark red,or black, or both
a molasses that is solid and liquid, it defies my understanding
and beckons unto me
charred wood bleeds iron blood
and I continue,
the chill of wind and ocean air disguise the feel of growing warmth
against my skin and in my heart
but on I go, as on I must
through threshold hatch, into the chamber of tree heart.
inside this house is emptiness,
and then this feeling manifests
it has and always was
inside me from the start,
as real as ocean salt, and grass, and dirt
a feeling I can touch, evil is this place
and it is me.
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