The Dandelion's Journey

The Beginning:

My first sight as i opened my arms,

Breathed in fresh air,

In the new world,

Was the bright sun of the heavens

Shining down at me.

Warming me in both mind and body,

Ushering me up into the sky,

The open air, 

The gently wind,

Pulls me up,

Swaying me to and fro

Free as the wind, as light itself.

I am a dandelion seed,

First tucked among petals,

Hidden from sight.

Then entering the view

Of anyone watching,

Over the meadow.

Soaring over valleys and hills,

The scarce undergrowth

And numerous blossoms.

The wind pushes me farther,

Away from the others

Those have already landed

Ready to sprout again.

But not me.

I go past the boundary

Of the jaunty colors of the meadow

To the unfamiliar bland land

Of the Beyond.

And I am afraid.

I am alone.

Summer:

Just leaving my home,

The familiarity,

Brings a pang to my heart

As I float daintily

Over the expanse of what I do not know.

I do not trust,

The sun, who made me feel protected,

The sky, who allowed me to pass,

The wind, who pushed me away.

But my distrust melts away

Along with the sorrow,

The grief,

As I enter the realm of the Unknown,

The unfamiliar,

But the beautiful.

Exquisite.

Unique.

Then I am thankful,

To the sun, sky, but mostly, the wind,

Who guided me along.

I am amidst the colors, gay colors,

Of the outside world

That I would never have seen

Were it not for these friends.

I see young ones,

And as I continue on my path,

I see them grow up.

Everything grows up before my eyes,

But not me.

Why is it that I do not stop?

Land!

But the wind has other ideas.

I go on.

Onwards.

Autumn:

I weave through trees,

The wind on my side,

Yet against me.

Kept from being trapped,

Again,

But kept from landing,

And sprouting.

Ever.

But the wind makes a mistake.

Heading forward I speed,

A canopy of orange spread over me.

The breeze strengthens, but

Pushing me forward,

The roof is blown forward as well.

No escape.

Trapped.

Beneath the blanket of sunlight,

I rest for a while.

I feel the pressure of the leaves gathering,

And I cannot leave

To continue my trip.

But the wind has an idea.

There is a storm, a windstorm.

The harsh whip rustles the leaves,

Destroys the carped of the horizon,

And sets me out in the open.

I am free.

I dance around for a few moments,

Drying off,

Becoming lighter,

So that the wind can carry me.

Quick and fast.

We have lost time.

So the trip continues,

No more stopping.

Where do we go?

Ahead.

Where will Ahead be?

Winter:

I sweep around, above, across,

The large expanse of the Unknown,

Wondering.

I sweep through,

Not stopping for a moment.

Then the snow falls.

On me.

Falling down, down.

Encased in snow,

Fluffy whiteness on the outside,

Fatal cold hidden within.

I stay, no feeling left.

I stay, sleep, but live.

Lengths that seem like ages pass.

Frozen solid within the hard ice,

I am stuck.

I feel myself fall, deeper and deeper,

With each passing moment.

Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months pass,

And I wait.

What else can I do

But wait?

My patience is tested

With the unending wait

That stretches before me.

Then, a tinge of warm

As subtle as the wind rustled

From a bird

High above.

There, but barely.

Felt, but barely.

Known, but barely.

I want to believe,

But such a time encased in ice

Has changed me.

I disagree, argue, retaliate against myself.

Such a warmth

Reaches me

Inside my ice cocoon prison

And I know.

I know that spring has come.

Spring:

The slightness of the warmth

Wants to change my mind

Dream that I was dreaming.

But I know.

It is real.

The thaw comes, but not to me.

Not yet.

I rise, rising in the warm ice,

That becomes slush,

That becomes water.

I rise to the sunlight

That has greeted me

When I first appeared to the open world,

And which will now greet me again

As I appear to the open world,

Again.

The wind rises me up,

As far as the wind can go

Which is ultimately high.

The living things look like ants

Below me.

I am above all,

Nothing is higher.

I look, what now?

The jaunty colors of a carpet,

Welcomes me like a warm hug.

Where have I been?

Everywhere.

What have I seen?

Everything.

Why?

I do not have an answer for that.

No reason?

Every reason possible?

A reason none know,

Yet still,

Know inside?

I do not know.

The End:

What is the intention of the wind?

I do not know.

All I know is what I see before me.

And what do I see before me?

I see the gay colors,

Stretching out unlimited,

Showing the growing, maturing life

That is fun.

I see the leaves falling,

Giant canopies, roofs, carpets, blankets

Of the sun that welcomed me first

With open arms.

I see the white snow,

The snow that looks harmless.

Only those who have experienced

The hidden fatality withing

The dots of pure white

Understand.

I see the jaunty colors of a meadow,

Blossoms blooming in bunches,

Yellow flowers spreading the petals

That are full.

Full of what?
Dandelion seeds.

One, the unique, unusual, different

Dandelion seed,

Will go on a trip, path,

To see the world,

]All thee stages,

None hidden.

Instead of staying on the ground,

Growing again,

It will go on a journey.

The Dandelion's Journey.