Only The Dreamer

A Deep and Natural light lives in the recesses hidden from my view.  I go through a jungle of thoughts that hold me stranded in a world that seems so real—though I am, in truth, only the dreamer of this world.

I dream and find brambles made from worries at my feet and the path before me is obscured by my darkened view.  I tread with uncertainty and head for distant hills hoping that the way will clear and the day come before my fears take hold of me and turn me in more wrong directions.  There is a bit of Moon showing through the forest that has sprung around me from the troubled thoughts in my mind.  There are serpents clinging to the branches moving the leaves in such a way as to permit their sighs to sound like song.  I’ve become enthralled to “something” outside myself.

And yet, and yet, there are picture windows in the middle of the night that open onto a Daylight that allows the soul that is asleep to awaken and look again.  There is on the horizon a little bit of Sun left over from a hopefulness believed in long ago. Yes, there is always hope in the air.

I am walking and wondering what purpose this journey is based on.  The outer commands seem loud and intrusive and the sound coming from the grief in others makes the peace and quiet that still comes from within me, hard to hear.  How does one turn away and listen to the sweet Nothing?  How does one do that?  There must be a way to stay peaceful where peace is not believed in.  There must be a way to view the origin of life through the filtered illusion if time.

And to think, and to think—this time thing is not real—for, Dreamer that I am—I am only its creator.

Comments are closed.