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