The Dream
I have seen
The sunken mysteries of my own mind
spread out before me,
enveloping everything,
breathing sunlight from their ephemeral dew.
I have heard
the silent rumblings of a desire yet unborn
the faint, pitching melody of longing,
as it wakes
And I have felt,
The myriad images brush against my skin,
brush up against my eyes, still closed
and beat great rhythms into my
closed and stirring eyes.
Yes, I have known
The soft line which breathes within the
narrows of necessity
The wisdom which whispers through
the mouth of restless fantasy,
And the thought—which knows
no boundary, but which
flows and speaks out endlessly
as it illuminates
the dream.
