I was thinking about dreaming for which there is no vessel
nor a clear map or labyrinth
dancing merrily or frightfully
connections distorted or embracing real happenings
We awaken and particles swimmingly define
the morning's introduction to the day
and the day advances under its fresh light
fostering more fuel for future nocturnal presence
Sometimes I’m fearful in dreams
and their masks of my personal theater
maybe dreams are a school for lessons unlearned
though often distorted as a clue about our clutch for survival
Frugal in messaging, often a fearful flow
often a joyous parting of dark clouds
often strangling comforts using black paint in the dark
often painting smiles in a glancing slash of light
I would love to sleep a safe night once
awakening with an empty morning
fresh for fresh flowers of a new day’s scape
fresh for creating new dreams of hope and learning
Would I rather dream than die?
an easy answer… without new streams for the flow
without swimming in the dark clouds
without chancing and challenging
I have died
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