Dreams

I don’t know where dreams go.. Maybe they take form in the sky a genesis of nothing but cloud castles, building subdivision into an eternity where no one’s ever home. Or maybe the winds drift them through time, lazily pacing histories progress searching to reseed on fertile ground. Thistledown dreams. Some of them might be that kind. Like the prayers whispered through battered lips where the fight for freedom blood lets on the ground of reason for what the bible was reputed to have said. Prayers for Acceptance, Peace, Love and Wholeness. Prayers for freedom wave flags to the breezes that blow on by, looking for that fertile ground that we have yet to prepare. I don’t know where dreams go.. But I want my field ready my mind open my heart warm. I want the dreams of my people of all my relations to have a place to be..