Dreams are for those who sleep, Visions for those who can dream while wide awake:

 A cabin of my own,
an isolated,
yet not lonely home.

Surrounded by friendly flowers,
and protective wizened trees.
Perhaps a brook, or creek,
or lake for deep reflecting.

A cabin of my own,
one day I could call home,
If I need to build it myself,
give me the means and tools
to learn and know.

But I am certain I am not the first,
nor the last,
to desire the sweet gifts,
willingly released from nature's grasp.

There have been those whom have come long before,
and built their dreams,
with the skills they had inborn.

To take the abundance
that nature freely offers,
and responding in kind,
replanting each tree,
as prayer and thanks,
for a place to rest my well-travelled feet.

A cabin of my own,
perhaps just a dream,
perhaps exactly what I need.

A monument to sun,
earth,
air,
water,
fire,
and sky.
To harness the sun and wind,
To stand reverent to the darkness,
to collect the rains,
to grow beans and grains,
perhaps a few chicks,
and milk baring beasts.

Can I attain this dream by means of my intrinsic traits?
of the gifts I so haphazardly guide?
I am not like the men before me,
so skilled with their hands,
wood, and tools.
I know I won't return to the soul-crushing grind.
That ship has sailed,
holes and all.

I don't long for much,
I want my parents healthy,
my friends happy,
I want to live comfortably,
in nature's ever-changing embrace.

 A cabin of my own,
an isolated,
yet not lonely home.
offering respite to friends and foes alike,
come by, the door is open,
the fireplace always alight.

I'll put on some tea,
we can play some music,
or perhaps paint the various
greens which greet our eyes.
 

A cabin of my own,
perhaps just a dream,
perhaps exactly what I need.