Dream Tunnel

[Guest guest]

When a friend and i were dreaming in the place

where all dreamers meet at night,

we came upon a verdant, green valley,

covered in bee balm, golden, yellow buttercups

and purple larkspur begging to be put in a haiku.

 

We clasped hands and raced down to the Sea,

for you see, this valley was nestled a rich meadow

and in the meadow there swayed fragrant narcissus blossoms,

humming in the light rain falling softly over them,

stem and petal, all.

 

In the breeze of memory we stop

and stare at times we were crazy-happy,

happier than we felt safe or prudent to be.

Shiva Loves a good tune so i tilt my head,

not completely unsuspicious, i might add.

 

i can hear the far-off and getting closer, low strains

from a musicical score from a haunting song i know

all too damn well. The poignancy of realizing

you're about to die and take a ride on the flaming fire-raft

of Shiva calling the cows home for dinner, well...

 

Twilight Zone tones take me home in a barrel

over the Mystery waterfall of "Wicked and Wonderful,"

over rocks and jagged stones

and diseased towns and bombed cities and burned villages

and rape and riot and rapscallions ripping off the river of humanity.

 

And the entire experience appears before us in the meadow

of memory-dream and the moment we realize we are not the dream

or the dreamer or what is being dreamed,

we will awaken in a Sea of Love

from OneHeart, and Beloveds, after that

 

 

 

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[Guest guest]

"Mazie Lane" <sraddha54@h...> wrote:

 

> When a friend and i were dreaming in the place

where all dreamers meet at night,

we came upon a verdant, green valley,

covered in bee balm, golden, yellow buttercups

and purple larkspur begging to be put in a haiku.

 

We clasped hands and raced down to the Sea,

for you see, in this valley was nestled a rich meadow

and in the meadow swayed fragrant narcissus blossoms,

humming in the light rain falling softly over them,

stem and petal, all.

 

In the breeze of memory we stop

and stare at times we were crazy-happy,

happier than we felt safe or prudent to be.

Shiva Loves a good tune so i tilt my head,

not completely unsuspicious, i might add.

 

i can hear the far-off and getting closer, low strains

from a musical score a haunting song i know

all too damn well. The poignancy of realizing

you're about to die and take a ride on the flaming fire-raft

of Shiva calling the cows home for dinner, well...

 

Twilight Zone tones take me home in a barrel

over the Mystery waterfall of "Wicked and Wonderful,"

over rocks and jagged stones

and diseased towns and bombed cities and burned villages

and rape and riot and rapscallions ripping off the river of humanity.

 

And the entire experience appears before us in the meadow

of memory-dream and the moment we realize we are not the dream

or the dreamer or what is being dreamed,

we will awaken in a Sea of Love

from OneHeart, and Beloveds, after that

 

 

)))) After that, nobody can say a word.

Oh, there'll be a sound alright, but more

like the sound the mirror makes when the

Love God dances before it.

I'll ask if I may have the next dance, and

You'll say "Ask the mirror!"

In the mirror, as I watch, diseased

towns, bombed cities, burnt villages,

rape and riot are all submerged in a

Sea of Love, redolent with narcissus and

bee balm, echoing a haunting tune,

calling cows home to Shiva.

 

 

 

LoveAlways,

 

b