where the needle's eye is winking, closing in on the poor

sleeps the dreamer, waiting and sighing
for hearts and hollows of the seedling's core
for trepidatious steps towards bravery and light
the sun casting and casting and smiling and casting

brilliant rays; effortful imageries
that grow from within the stories of people
shared over years and rescued with care
viewed through the lens of love outward; not let in

one who does not and would never ask to be let in
one who would never esteem themselves worthy
as if mosaic-myriad histories are anything without every single person
as if any happiness can exist without beaming from one to one