Dreams emerge in sleepy darkness,
Weave images, wordless messages,
Plain and clear yet hidden in deep mystery,
Only hinted as they erupt from depths
Sensed but impossible to know
Except as seen through dark glass,
Cobwebs, all unknown, unknowable
Yet seeking to be known,
Rising this first step to consciousness,
Retrieved, remembered, claimed,
Surprised as truth long resisted.
There, spilled out upon the sheets,
Unseen by eyes, testifies in private,
Joined in morning’s meadow of wonder
More than those who breathe or those
Deceased, without whom my life
Would not be as it is, stretched out,
Lost within haunted woods,
Fallen to the bottom of deep well,
Water from the spring forever flowing
Into long blue shadows of the night.
"Headwinds" ---Fred Turpin's Poetry Blog 