for others––
swaying palm-trees &
enchanted sun-sets;
smooth bodies silking on
earthly clouds;
celestial cities paved with
cobbled gold.
for me––
distracted dreams;
entrapments;
repetitive motions of
anguish.
still––
sleep is so
warm, & the welcoming
oblivion so gracious, i
keep watching from the
bleachers of no
where.
a shaman once said, “night
mares do no harm.”
are they lessons? entertainment?
yours? or mine?
our mental night.
our soul’s bright day.
the ancient world believed,
perhaps, gods give
night-signs to guide our
waking ways.
day-dreams are our own
indwelling spirits of
air & light &
possibility.
they are our friends,
though we do not
know their
names.
they give us poems;
are partners in our
loves; & without them this
subway would be
terribly
dark.
trust them,
they are wise.