Dreams Within Dreams

Dream is a thing flowing thoughts meander to make, but a thing made is also destined to break. If rupturing of dream is like splitting the silence of the dark dungeon of mind, the vibration of destruction would create seismic waves of turmoil in the suppressed soul that demolish the premise of promise, the present makes to the future, destructs the illusory tapestry of trance, as fleeting dreams are woven transiently within dreams. I deprive the dream breaker of the power, shatter the sheath of tremor distress makes, the slices of splintered psyche swirling in despair collect in the sanctum of soul profoundly mine, and compose the secret song of sorrow, the rolling tear drops carry serenading to the unclosed eyes, so these could see how dreams break like the swaying waves on the shore of stark reality where I stand as an object. I then become a mute collection of words made of time’s sand composing no lyric, nor creating the ballad of Greek tragedy, for I then lie under the debris of dreams with life’s fostered reverie that shelters in unreality the flockless bird I become with broken wings, in the tempest of time when the sky falls. The broken dreams don’t return in entirety, for I can’t reconstruct their wings to fly in the recreated awareness sky of my mangled mind, but time restructures my dormant desire, raise me from the ruins of the past, and blow for me the winds of hope, so, I drift to the realm of dream once again, to find divinity configured within consciousness dreams.