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Dreams for -- ravynsfaeryDreams
Dreams are for living.
They come in the night
When the clatter of the
Day has subsided.
They engage our souls,
Emotions and unguarded fantasies,
Dreams are nocturnal instructions
For our daytime journeys.
They are historical documentaries
Of all our lives lived before
Dreams transport us to
Dimensions beyond our senses.
They open doors that once
Entered cannot be closed.
Dreams bring illumination
In wavelengths beyond
The spectrum our eyes
Dreams entice us to an
When we embrace them,
We are freed from the
Limitations of a
More mundane world.
An Affair with the WindAn Affair with the Wind
The Spring winds came in early March.
I remember it was a late Saturday afternoon,
and you had gone to bed early after
planting flowers in the yard.
It was a special day for you and I knew
I would find the bedroom window open.
You were curled up like a kitten with
a pale blue comforter pulled up around your chin.
There were really only two things to see
in the room -- your smile and
everything else. The wind had captured you ...
You could almost trace the currents as they
played with the curtains, swirled around
the room and then caressed your face.
As I watched you became one with the wind.
Thunder sounded in the distance, for a
brief moment startled you, and then
you once again surrendered to the wind.
Suddenly, there was another sound of
thunder and you became restless.
Half asleep you struggled to the window.
The wind, now strong, tearing at your gown,
became animated and your body trembled.
A final flash of lightening transformed you
Night CryNight Cry
I cried to the Nightwind.
She did not know my name.
I called to the sky.
The stars would not shine.
I plead with the moon,
It passed unheeding,
I prayed to my gods.
Silence answered me.
I searched for you in all
the familiar places.
I looked in vain for your
face in all the crowds.
I watched you smile in the
corner of a memory.
I heard you laugh in a
I listened to your heart beat
through the muffled filter of time.
I danced with you in a fantasy
of spontaneous choreography.
I waited for the dawn to evaporate
my anguish with the morning dew.
My wait was in vain. The sun
rose, the dew was taken,
and still, I stood in the morning sun
waiting to grasp a hand
that was not there.
Small ThingsSmall Things
Sometimes, I am possessed with the desire to
write lofty thoughts, perhaps to dignify
my feelings and convince you of my love.
And then I realize that it really is the
combination of small detailed memories
that blend into a tapestry of love.
What are the limits, where are the
boundaries, who had the words to
describe the experience of looking
into your eyes and touching your
cheek with my fingers? Seeing
becomes touching becomes seeing.
The senses coalesce into one. What
did I connect with that will be a
part of me forever?
I cannot tell you how your head
feels on my chest, with my hand
holding your hair close, strands
falling between my fingers and
asking to be caressed.
The warmth of skin above your
heart speaks to the palm of my
hand, but not to the part of my
brain that forms words and
The length of your body next to
mine is remembered by my body,
but I cannot capture on paper
what that felt like.
The image of you walking
Linen and Fine PurpleLinen and Fine Purple
Before you leave,
tell me you will always be with me.
When you say goodbye,
make sure I know it's only for a while.
Take my hand,
and let me hold it until you die.
Touch my heart,
and look at me with your soft forgiving eyes.
Show me your smile,
so I can remember our days of happiness.
Show me your tears,
and I'll remember those days too.
Remind me of
the times we walked in the mountains,
sat by the waterfalls,
and listened for the morning birds.
Help me to
understand what is happening to you
Tell me I've
done all I could to bring you peace.
I must tell you
that I cannot let you go easily.
You know I will grieve
and I am not ashamed.
This has never happened
to me before.
Never has my mother said
"Goodbye" and not come back to see me.
Speak to me softly
and let me hear your voice.
I don't care what you say,
I just want to hear you say my name again.
I will be in
your home when you leave,
I will take
care of you as long as you are here.
I know you're going
Moon of Long AgoLast night, when I saw the moon,
it awakened a memory deep in my soul.
A memory of seeing it with you.
The memory spoke of times long ago.
When we embraced deep in the forest,
with only the moist night air
separating us, our clothing in a
heap by the shore.
The moon shone then, illuminating
your body before my eyes. We stood
apart, lost in the passionate energy that
struggled to unite us. For what seemed
like eternity we stood looking at each
other, until the energy and desire
brought us together.
At the time that I first touched you
I lost awareness of everything else in
the Universe. As we lay down in the
rain, the forest was filled with
the sounds of our delighting each other
with touches of pleasure and desire.
And then I was aware of the sound of
your breath and the sensation of your
back in my hands. The Universe
passed in and out of existence
until we silently lay on the
forest floor, embracing each
other until the sunrise.
The moon re
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
[transmissions of a dead girl]i am the
moon: i am
the silver pill
to weigh down
into leaden eyes--
i am the
of the dark.
the stars are
all dead in their
you'll be safe, dear,
as i am the moon,
with all of your
(i am good bye and yet,
you think only of romantic
i am the moon.
i am the crescent
and dead altogether,
i still die.
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