Before the Film Begins
Rolling into bed-n-blankets;
I turn to ensure that my pen, journal
and sketchbook are beside my bed.
My dream-companions need me,
as much as I need them.
they need my imagination and its wanderings,
to spill upon their pages,
like water droplets, cascading into a wandering river.
At some point, I will awake
and pour my dreams
onto the white abyss;
my pen will sing and sketch universes
from the dreamtime realms;
My soul will bubble with elation.
Such treasures, perused time and again;
Will birth myriads of heart-songs.
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