Of Dreams

By: Sancero Posted on: November 30, 2007

It is world apart from rhythm and meter, a realm we glimpse only from afar, and even then in unconscious sleep. Here is a phantasmagoric journey through the realm of dreams in verse, made tangible in verse..

- Of Dreams-

The hopes and fears of Gods and men

Are held within Her Realm, and when

You shut your eyes and drift away,

She waits with open arms, they say.

Within Her soft embrace you soar

Through love and hope, through strife and war.

With Her is nothing as it seems:

Rest eyes, and mind, and soul and dream...

-Of Family-

How many liquid spheres must end

their lives upon your brow,

must dance among your eyelashes

before you feel the rain?

How many stinging hailstones rend

your cheeks and scar your face

before you look away from them

and once again feel pain?

How many hateful dreams will haunt

your every waking hour,

will torment every day

until you sleep again at night?

How many years will pass in want

of time together spent

as family in warm embrace

of all things good and right?

How many ballads grace your ears

and softly fill your soul,

and bless our lives with music sweet

before you hear the song?

Too many! Far too many years

deprived of your dear voice.

Once, you said you'd always love me.

How I wish you'd not been wrong.

-Of Betrayal-

Embers in the throes of death cast their pallid glow

upon his face, familiar now, his place in time

and name recorded in the dance of flame.

The grey-eyed sea remembers what this errant used to be:

the fearless, tearless God of men whose fingers

clutched the world, but then... so swiftly fallen.

The skies cannot recall when any greater man or beast

set foot beneath their eyes, at least since they

began to watch the workings of the world below.

His final breath he took impaled upon a lover's blade,

greeting death with open arms, fading fast together

with at-last fulfilled desire and a tender, warm embrace.

Flames of passion lit this errant's funeral pyre,

and dying embers cast their pallid glow upon his face.

-Of Inspiration-

Forgetful Muse, remember now

those frost days of spring and how

we both in happy moods rejoiced

at every living thing.

You wore upon your lips a smile,

suggesting that we kiss, and while

we strode along that thawing pond

I vowed to never miss

the chance to touch your goddess-face

at whatsoever time or place

your bold desire might allow.

Ah Muse, you then were mine.

But look how time has worn away

what once we thought we were. Today

our love now stands in shadow as

a nigh-forgotten blur.

Forgetful Muse, forgetting still

that sacred oath I made and will

forever keep until the end

of life's sublime charade.

-Of Flight-

I should wish to fly amid the violet midnight sky,

to drift along where e'er the sweet wind blows.

And later I would land to feel the soft, white midnight sand

and let the cool, green midnight grass caress my toes.

I'd breathe the midnight air and feel bright starlight in my hair,

and drink of this to quench my thirsty soul.

For no more precious sight can hope to rival pale moonlight,

nor seek to make a fractured spirit whole.