I meditate where the road doesn't go.
Where bugs crawl without a single nibble.
Where lions never eat but never starve.
Where fish can breathe on land and kiss the stars.
As I meditated, I saw visions.
In these visions, you were drinking the clouds.
In these visions, your clothes were made of light.
In these visions, your smile contained the world.
In my meditation, you did something.
You rose up into the air and floated.
You rose up your hands and out arched rainbows.
You rose up your head and laughed shooting stars.
My meditation had come to an end.
I had read the scripture without pages.
I had heard your sermon without a sound.
I had visions of you without my eyes.
