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