Imagine a Basket

Imagine a Basket

Shaped in the space where nothing is asked, yet everything listens.

Some things are not meant to be carried away — only to be blessed by our touch and left open to the sky. This poem came as a quiet remembering of that truth — the way love, prayer, and offering weave through our hands and keep on breathing long after we’ve let go.

Imagine a basket --
shaped in the space where nothing is asked
yet everything listens.
Woven in winter’s womb,
by the hands of the old ones
who whispered into each strand:
“May this carry what comes.”

Imagine a basket --
that gathered light long before it arrived,
a basket lined with the patience of snowmelt,
stitched with the hush of waiting.
One that listened for the crack of seed,
the curl of green,
the breath before the song.

Imagine a basket --
warmed by the midsummer’s sun,
stretched wide by opening,
holding both what bloomed and what broke open,
the weight of what we dared to grow.

Imagine a basket --
brimmed with what we’ve tended,
and what we never meant to hold.
One that cradles the unfinished,
the unanswered,
the too-late and the just-in-time.

Imagine a basket --
not woven all at once,
but formed gesture by gesture,
offering by offering,
as if the hands of the unseen
are also helping.

Imagine a basket --
that does not close.
It is not meant to be carried away.
When we rise, it remains:
a circle still pulsing
with the quiet grace
of what we chose to share,
and what we let fall.

Imagine a basket --
left open to the sky,
to the soil,
to what comes next.

© 2025 Lorriiii Dragon Dream | SpiritDrumming.com
Words and images are living offerings — please share with credit and care.

---

Share this Whisper

Facebook Pinterest X / Twitter Email

✧ Read another poem → The Offering