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,
rolling in tides of time.
I then become a mute collection
of words made of eternity sands 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 domain of dream once again,
to find divinity configured within consciousness dreams.
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