The Ground Moves

The ground moves
beneath your feet,
not like an earthquake,
which throws you to the ground
and cracks your foundation, nor
like quicksand,
which swallows you silently,
until you disappear altogether,

no,

the ground moves
under your feet
gently, often unseen,
unnoticed

because we are distracted
by the scenery,
enamored by wind and rain and sun,
captivated by flowers that bloom and die,
lost in the seasons, unaware
that underneath,

the ground moves
and suddenly we awake
in a foreign country,
where even those closest to us
speak a language we do not understand.

We are lost.

Yet this is the point of return,
where we find our foundation,
when we find at last
what stays with us,
and what is fleeting as dandelion seeds.

Where we choose to dance,
or die.

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The picture was taken in Rupert, VT. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom