A Poem That Cannot Be Written
I've been to a place in my dreams--I've met many and I've seen the One. The reality of these encounters escape with the morning light. Fragments of this realm are all that remain of the night. I try to reach back into the twilight and pull out the memory before it is gone, but I end up with only sensations, and out of context words that don't know where they belong. I want to write it down--I want to remember the journey into the light beyond the dark highway. I wake up, remember, and then forget, and my attempts to describe the journey feel sideways. It seems like there is a part of me that extends beyond me and is free to travel during the hours of the night. It seems like there is a part of me that is not bound to one location, but like the speed of light, during slumber takes flight. A dream that is real—that makes what is real feel like a dream. A place that makes this place seem different than it seems. An experience that awakens the parts of my being that I've yet to discover. An encounter that leaves me thirsting for more—like a life I've been living under cover. A veil that is removed while I sleep—a place that is as a divine secret that I keep. It is not understood—it cannot be described well. This is my attempt to find words that can tell. This is the poem that I write in the night, a song, and a heavenly sound, but in the daylight hours cannot be written, is elusive, and has yet to be found.
The Awakening of Sleep
What am I looking for?
I know not what it is.
I feel as if it came to me
In a dream once before.
It was a feeling—but more than a feeling.
It was a meeting—but more than a meeting.
It was somehow healing—but more than healing.
It was as if my body was heating—but more than heating.
The words to articulate this occurrence are fleeting...
Like two magnets in flight in the night
I am both repealed and drawn near.
Like a vision too grand and a fright of delight
I am filled with peace and tremble with fear.
The words to express this tension disappear...
Who am I looking for?
I know not who he is.
I feel as if he came to me
In a dream once before.
His eyes were fierce—but more than fierce.
His hair was like light—but more than light.
His hands were pierced—but more than pierced.
His face was bright—but more than bright.
The words to describe what my eyes beheld are out of sight...
He is as a brother whom I have forgotten.
He is as a best friend whom I have lost.
He is as a son who was begotten.
He is as a father who paid a high cost.
The words to portray this bond, into a cosmic sea are tossed...
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