Sunday, January 3, 2016
Dreams in Flight
yeah... flying dreams are still my
favorite dreams to breathe
and in which to be.
Soaring mostly closed-eye
with the Hand of the World
(silly green-checkered thing)
falling away, as I wing toward the sky.
flying makes sense, and above I see
the rocks and debris as clouds and trees see me:
dangerous, beautiful, puny and temporary.
The Hand of the World cannot see or
escape things seen by my one brown-sliver of eye.
(look down, in a pool of water-ice is where it lies)
Flying isn't always easy - take care when you dare to try.
sure, I've fallen too far in a hundred and one more dreams,
hit the dread rocks or choking claws or the ringing schemes;
flattened and gone-dead. And with the sun's light I still rise again to be.