Earthson

I feel the astral wind
upon my face,
a flight within the dreamtime.
I stray through
realms of fire, and of air,
past ocean worlds
and skies that snow eternally —
but yet, nothing
amazes me this nowaday;
and I think,
I need not this great
wandering to be alive,
not any the more:
I need not
light ablaze my senses
to know that I am.
I return to the quiet of my seat,
here in the four
square walls of my room,
and I breathe
air that has been exhaled
from the lungs of great humans.
Gravity is my
good friend, again,
and I need not some special
spell to take me
to the center of myself.
I know I am a miracle.