Darkroom

The house
of my dreams
is in the trees.

A name made
of rocks and gems.

Deer drift
into the moment,
a whale's eye opens.

My childhood touches
the earth like cave paintings.

Home is to never be alone,
is letting go of the future,
is the highest mountain

safe from the flood.

Mystery is a question
a willingness to burn,
to get lost in the wilderness.

We come together because space
is a void for light, a photograph

birthed from the slavery of darkness.