I wake, silently chanting, hoping to remember
The moons that spun, the planets that dived,
in that other world.  Here no longer at play,
dusting off starlight and sinking into density.
At first, only a cat's cold nose, then further intrusion
of creaking boards, voices; a household awakes.

We catch a glimmer sometimes; in the shifting sunlight,
the edged treeline blends and dissolves,
leaving us unsure of our own solidity.
Sometimes a conversation takes place there:
Remember how we wept in fountains of streaming color?
And loved in symphonies? And danced in whirling layers of light?

The heaviness of our thoughts leaves us forgetful,
trapping dreams in the cage of our desires,
until the sun slips from earth and the way is found home.
The structures collapse; easily yielding to a practiced touch.
Dissembling, we fold into ourselves,
and prepare to loose our dreams once more. 


Linda Lyng
Copyright ©2003 Linda Lyng

Dream