Dandelion Milk, a poem

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On a star

I dream of

I live on

There is a place

Just one

Very far

But you can get there by dark.

A home

A town

Just over a hill

Sculpted by time.

Can you see it yet?

The sun shines all day upon the dahlias.

And the wind will love you

Like family.

There is this place

Where you can buy dandelion milk

By the gallon.

And no one screams at you

For being you.

For being.

A place where the stars twinkle all night

And prepare for your wishes.

Here, at the center of a boundless galaxy

You will be loved

And cradled.

As if you were a flower.

As if you were the first flower.

When you arrive you will find

That time has looped gently back

To bring you gifts from the lives you lived.

… a sweetheart’s kiss

… a child’s offered hand.

Even family spirited beyond this place are back now.

So touch, in silence.

At long last presence is enough.

A place just west of here.

Where you can sing freely.

And where human sound is vital music.

Its rhythm makes bees dance

And causes butterflies to arise from their transforming slumbers.

And you will awaken too.

To life.

And this silly cosmic interplay.

Whose author is found

In every leaf.

In every love.

Here, where teardrops taste like cinnamon candy.

When one star falls

The sky falls, too.

And when a star is born.

The sky and all of its children

Are born once more.

And then again for safekeeping.

And the angels will surround you

And keep their watch.

And whisper “welcome home.”

As if…

As if you had ever left.

© 2017 Evan Kuhlman