Written by: Krow Fischer

I don’t know
where dreams go..

Maybe they take form in the sky
a genesis of nothing but cloud castles,
building subdivision into an eternity
where no one’s ever home.

Or maybe the winds drift them through time,
lazily pacing histories progress
searching to reseed on fertile ground.

Thistledown dreams.
Some of them might
be that kind.

Like the prayers whispered through battered lips
where the fight for freedom
blood lets on the ground of reason
for what the bible was reputed to have said.

Prayers for Acceptance,
and Wholeness.

Prayers for freedom
wave flags to the breezes
that blow on by,
looking for that fertile ground
that we have yet
to prepare.

I don’t know
where dreams go..

But I want my field ready
my mind open
my heart warm.
I want the dreams of my people
of all my relations
to have a place to be..