When Lost in Dreams

When you lose yourself in dreams—
Or more precisely when you are lost,
Drifting out upon the lake at night,
Unmoored, unsheathed from consciousness,
Caught in vast tidal undertow far out from shore….
You can’t explain; you can’t speak.
 
When you turn to dreams, admitting you are lost….
Give up your eyes, for here you are blind.
You may ask for map of memory’s past, yet only
If the hunger’s strong enough,
Then wind begins to rise,
Blows from strange foreign land
Where Moon is never only one, rippling
Stars come close as angels in the dark,
But only speak in tongues.
 
The images that flow are seldom clear,
Bleed from scene to scene,
Edit out the intermission of intervening years,
Plot as thick as cream….
The mist that gathers there on mirror
Comes from your own breath.  You stare,
But cannot fully see the face staring back at you.
 
And if the quilt unfolds…. the one hand-stitched
Before your wedding day, pressed for years
With dead flowers in attic chest…
Unfold it gently, with tender love,
For years have made it fragile.  Ask no questions.
Simply sit upon the bed, breathe deeply….
Inhale the fragrance of the flower long gone….
Wait until out of the stillness comes a voice,
Perhaps a single note from ancient song,
Yet from somewhere comes the sense that it belongs.
 

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