Dreamer's Dilema
Sometimes a dream is more lucid than living
when mountains use tree limbs to pull you to summits
and clouds cushion feet which are tired and aching
blue cotton candy in taste.
Sometimes when I'm sleeping I hear you there breathing
and suddenly it gives birth to thick wind which is blowing
Blowing my hair which is 90 feet long
toward the clock which is winding in haste.
The weaver is weaving in gold and in silver
My braids hanging heavy with violets and clover
sparkles of moonlights from candles lit early
slip past my words on a dare
As dawn creeps toward consciousness,
the world takes on weightlessness
I'm floating with white caps of waves in the sky
I pass by the moon as she stares
Sometimes I deliberately grip my dreams tightly
and polish them up 'till they marble shine brightly
I roll them on tongues of the caves of deliverance
and shout from my mountainous mind
Sometimes I let go like they've burned me internal
I slip them in files of scorching eternal
I breathe like a soldier returning from battle
and leave my unconscious behind...
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