The word itself is a wall
made of windows
and broken frames.
Mind moves over
a seascape, builds bridges
between the waves.
Now you are doing it,
that thing,
creating vineyards
with buckets of sand.
The script, the writing,
it is a harvest sown
by a form yet unborn.
It means nothing,
yet nevertheless
wine pours
then all antecedence,
all inference
returns to scratches
upon a cooling mud
and it is that mud,
the mud on your hands
that speaks.
Tell me of things hidden under the dust of night.
Tell me of hidden things under the dusk of light.
Reveal tomorrow as a play acted upon today.
Tell of the future as if you have played there today.
Unveil the mysteries surrounding creation,
Unravel wonders beyond my intuition.
Lay bare Earth's oldest, darkest secrets,
Awed with knowledge above written writs.
The form of light, the language of brightness,
The sigh of night, the whisper of darkness.
Hoary whiteness that crowns the horizon,
Inky blackness that surrounds Orion.
Tell me of things unknown, not forgotten,
Awe me with knowledge not forbidden
Let me hear of deep speeches long awaited
History in advance, foretold unabated.
My dear wind curls around my arms
It whistles and blows red and gold,
I wait for its warm fall harvest mix soup,
And yon pumpkin’s face in a glow.
The smell of the mix of lunchtime vegetables,
Peas and potatoes and ham and steam,
To share with our new picking corn neighbors,
And joy in our first fall dreams.
There will be laughter and singing and dancing,
A hay wagon and calico,
We will run alongside happy horses,
While my cool fall wind loves to blow.
Inside is the smell of wood pencils and paper,
As we titter who will we meet.
Mon and pop read their evening papers,
While by the fire we warm our feet.
Is being open to fate,
a choice
Accepting tomorrow,
in lieu of today
A foretelling that still
can be acted upon
A remembrance
—the choosing at bay
(Dreamsleep: January, 2020)
-If I had one chance to see into the future
I would honestly have to pass
Whether its bright or doom filled
I have no idea , nor do i care to glance
For what I might see may not inspire me
To strive for what I want most
I'd rather live in wonder and have hope
Then to already know what's in store before I go ghost -
-- AB
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