Who Dreamed

Perhaps he was the vision
living in her every dream.
Enchanting as a faery king.
He lay with her while moon and stars
and sun danced all together in the sky.
And she, as if asleep or in a trance,
sank deeper into states of mind that lingered.
Meshing heart and soul and spirit.
As moments out of time moved round
instead of into yet another linear form.
No matter any path she trod,
it seemed he was her destination.
Moments passed within eternal presence.
Composed of innocence and blissful pleasure.
Measurement become a blur
for all that intellect refused to stir.
Until the light of day and dark of night
began to move between them and then part
the brightness of the loving dream, the spark.
It faded all too fast into a dreary, vast,
emotionless divide. That which mankind
came to call the factual and real.
Excluding any means that can't be
counted by the movement of machines.
Yet even age has proved the lie
of hours that still seem to fly.
As if some vital energy
were merging back into the dream
that brought all life to birth.
Pressure parting. Fear let loose.
Battles brought to understanding truce.
Was it only madness then
to seek to live within the dream...?
Or was the lack of dreaming true
the reason that the nightmares grew...?
While memories, for long held dear,
were somehow coming clearer
as the stress of youthful battle
was released. And imagery of soulful
lust became the dust of ages living on
within those ever multiplying forms.
A new birth celebrated
even as another life abated.
Cycles that must spiral into
never ending form, ethereal.
And so perhaps he was the dream
that lay within her every dream.
Or could the meaning be
within the truth that it was she
who chose to keep the dream alive...?
As the manmade points
and peaks and corners
rounded themselves out
of time and mind...

? Michaelette ?

7/2/2005
Copyright© 2005 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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