Friday, November 13, 2015

fantasy is the synthetic
that gives the illusion
that it can fill you up
when it is the cannibalism
of the self
to get by on what
can't get by enough

but even with all
that is left to the unseen
I know this is dream
in the vision
of the colours
released from prisons
of forgotten how to laugh
and celebrate the miracle
of what Creation paints

in the way the ocean
does not ask the moon
to hold it near
or let it go
but learns to make
a dance of what
is connected to its heart

in the way the seeds dare
to let the sprouts go free
into the world they cannot see
to feel the warmth of sun
and take the rain
to quench their thirst

in the way I pray 
that you can know
it is not make-believing
in what was never there
but loving in all the beauty
that really is
that holds me to
the dream
that holds you deep inside
both the spirit
and the human
hearts

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