Monday, March 4, 2019

dreamtime continues

Agitated, observing, moving fluidly in the multi-tiered library.
So much to take in, be drawn into, imaginary conversations with
bright-labeled books.  The library like a horror movie medieval towar,
fearsome.  Lightning storm, steep stone climb from a college holiday
fair far below.
Immersed in sharp colors, sensual, deeply felt geometries.  Circus
fools, acrobat costumes, hidden rivers along highways thicketed in
mystically perfumed foliage.  Scenes never seen in waking life, yet
perennially home, in dreamtime,
Puissant, what drugs want to promise.  Free theater customed
to a singular crowd.  Instant, hologrammatic slice of eternity.
Perhaps a gift, brief respite from agonized responsibilities.
Respite from cold, pain, everyday injuries of innumerable mites
infected with pestilence, endless war.

In the innocence of dreamtime, what have you seen?


Creature, being, created from singular experience cocooned in dreaming.
Meditating, sitting, silent, still, watching metaphoric artfilm of revealed
truth waft like oracular smoke over beauty of this deep-blue pond contained
in floating ice offset by fog-faded mountain awareness.
Stories unencumbered by beginnings, by logical progression, by
boundaries, yet pure and strong as sacred text.
That meat-suit we use for interface, to find and absorb sustenance,
input that makes us dependent on a scientifically defined world,
magically transcended, hours transformed outside of measurement,
of time.
Even those horrific, catastrophic images that angrily cast you back
into a waking sweat and terror, even they are breakthrough respite,
catharsis to contain, secure, untenable memories, fears.
Immerse with your story’s most salient themes.
 
 

3/6/19

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