I am a barren tree in the deepest winter, unfinished, barely breathing, yet pregnant with spring's anticipation. I am the word on the tip of your tongue that you can't remember. I am the walk to the open refrigerator door when you meant to search for your ruler. I am the whisper wandering in the middle of midnight teasing you awake. I am the desire of dreaming, I am the embodiment of joy. I am the meaning of life as well as its mystery. I am the questions that can never be answered, only followed, propelling into the lair of love's incubation. I am the soaring wind in the sacred skies of volatile vibrations. I am the relief for parched lips on a very hot, dry day. I am the the tickle that suggests there's more to life, I am the one to point out the marvelous in the mundane. I am the one who cries in the wilderness, "make room for the divine, clear out the ego stuff that partitions spirit from soul." I am.