A Collage of Light
On a wisp of wattle
that cradled in the fig,
a dreaming began
as sleep draped veils
to nurture a gleam into
dazed eyes,
as mantles of moonbeam
wreath temples
I fell to,
A gathering cluster
that saturated all reality,
a sculptor with tool
set about carving
a bird of paradise
as form finished
it flew away
A dove birthed
from a painters brush
and wiggled free to
splash the canvas
of black
staining its feathers
in obsidian
from centurions
I am gifted a
mariners compass,
they lead me to three rivers
setting sail
like the hunter after hare,
the cross and crown
my guiding lights
my keel wedged
on flying fish,
once soaring
times hand pulled
me to dock with face
now,
so weary I sleep
endless tomorrows,
and will drift awake
as the phoenix
morphs to crane
infinitesimal stars
will emblazon my hair
with constellations
as I regather from
the comforts of reverie
—-
and every now and then,
seeing miniature worlds
on specks of wonderment
will remind me,
that I am just dream-weaving
through southern lights
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