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Consecutive Dreams (Poem)

Updated on June 17, 2014

In my dream, I had you

And it seemed not, though it overflowed

With spectrum's vibrant hue,

It blinded me, then glaring sparks showed.

Busy, blurred, and shifting

Mysterious ignorance haunted me,

But worse was your greeting

Of shallow kid, as if mockingly.

Saved by a startled wake,

Nothing more but a clipped memory,

Weighing rough weights of ache,

Facing the face numb of misery.

Air filling inside out,

Eyes away from un-reality

Shut, opened a new crowd

Of us in a state of inquiry.

Fingers on hammered strings,

Mind to and fro interrogation,

Heart locked as ever, clings

To your endearing disconnection.

I felt that I had to

Destroy and erase these doubting dreads.

End this counting of days to a few,

Only for more hundreds.

With presence as greeting,

And tipping hats with warmth of bluntness,

Without our eyes meeting,

"When?" "On the seventh." None of oddness.

Of Your Songs's blur of notes

Came, though supposedly two lines' done,

Dies not, maybe denotes

Your voice alive, with harmony gone.



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