The Dream

The Dream On it’s final journey – destination – a coma – realization, a stagnant pool of reflections, images on fun house mirrors – surrealistic paintings upon the walls of times passing, it’s life diminishing, slowly, upon wings of a sorrowful, soulful, agonizing flight into the realms of death’s domain. Dreams come to the midnight hour – hovering above. Dreams fade - in quiet desperation – in twilight’s dust. Rainbows mist, slowly blanketing, dark oceans deep. Dreams of – depths of love, of joy, of a relationship, all lost inside the vessel of heartache, heartache’s pain washes over this sinking ship, the ship of this fool and fools in love. The dream shattered, fragmented – as is the love, lost at the hand of indifference, of prejudiced perceptions, of judgmental criticisms, of a belief of unworthiness that is displayed upon the screens of a mind hiding, avoiding – a lifetime of pain, disappointment, shattered dreams, unattainable expectations – the monster – created, influenced, became the food for control, critical. judgmental indifference, the façade of such pride, superiority, aggression. The dreams, the love,–into Davie Jones’s locker deep- there lay the skeletons of memories’ hope, life’s desire, - for no other entity, no essence, no energy source of such beauty will come along to extricate, validate, bestow vitality, resurrect, breath life back into that which was dead and now drowning. Oh, if it could only be shown, there is more than one, shown that two can be as one in their separateness. If only the deep, dark, shadows would give up, give in, relinquish their control, release the anchor, the chains that bind, that weigh you down. The lungs of this Love, are filled with dew drops. Suffocating from an unloving, uncaring, uninterested. indifferent body, ( water the mother of this life, influence long gone ) oxygen it’s name - it’s father -rusting it’s hinges, doors no longer open for this child loved, for the spirit, the soul of dream’s destine - to love – seem not to be able to bring life to this dead soul – adrift. Shun the dreams essence and life drowns. Shun love’s embrace – energy becomes less then static, static becomes loves death - death by electrocution - a shock that stills the heart that loves. Love is dying at the hands of “ I do not want ! ” Soon the day approaches when Love, will not want what the hands of, reach out for – emptiness will be all that fills the world of superficiality. In the end, the aesthetic pictures, points of view will be nothing more then dust in the winds howling through the empty spaces - once beautiful Autumn Green Eyes. B. J. “A” 2 May 27th 2008