getting lost

I would be lost
in that place
where we meet
where all of possibility shows itself,
trembles with anticipated joy,
rests untroubled by anxious dreams.

I am lost
in that place
under the star-strewn embrace,
floating on the wind,
snaking like a vine wrapped around 
the branches of a singing tree.

Waiting,
knowing that one could just trip and tumble
into that abyss
of sublime lostness.
Contemplating the circular path
and the seemingly empty space inside.