Dream of Oak
/Just when I feel a lack of imagination, comes a dream. An unbidden act of vivid imagination pushing its message, its beauty, the unknown into the prefrontal cortex of a prosaic mind.
She is home, here and now
with breast thumping joy
I dare not breathe
Hold on to the scene
docile and defenseless
prostrate in an ancient chamber
Polished floors reflect
the frosted lens of a door
silent and blurred figures deliver
Her handwritten poetry
beautiful and haunting
gifts tucked under me safely
Careful now, slowly
I exhale but wait
Gone, gone again
I pace these ancient floors
smooth and dark and ageless
whorling thumbprints of oak
Round and around, unblinking
counting, labyrinthing
my steps and wonder
How many more rounds
until a welcome knock
at that frosty door
Do you reflect on the power of your dreams? What form of expression helps your understanding? Please share your comments below.
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