In the waking dream that is my life, there are conversations with misted souls. There are understandings gleaned from silent morning sunlight reshaping the work of night's frost.
In the waking dream, the crows line up across elder trees to announce the coming and going of the young eagle traveling east. The singular sparrow returns from its extended vanishing point. The cat is at the window in an instant.
In the waking dream, grief is dealt with in parceled amounts. A new knowledge of love takes shape. Impeccable bagpipes, eight, wail a rendition of Amazing Grace and I am cleansed.
In the waking dream, there is new light and new color of my own doing. There are stories to be read and a world to leave behind. In the leaving behind, however temporary, awakenings come forth. Opportunities reveal. Travail promises its end.
the elder trees and the young eagle - wisdom, youth. the morning sunlight reshaping the night's frost - light from the cold and dark.
ReplyDeletei am in love with your waking dream.
Thank you for continuing to give us these poignant, profound glimpses of your Journey, dear Kindred.
ReplyDeleteYou are loved & held close in my heart.
xoxoxo
This is pure poetry. I am only sorry that it comes from a place of pain. But new light and new color... I love the hope in that.
ReplyDeleteNo! It isn't coming from a place of pain. More a place of observation, acceptance, and even marvel. Turning away from the world is highly refreshing. Less computer, no news, me and the cats communing. Blankets, tea.
DeleteRevival.
No worries, my dear Kelly!! xoxo
I do love your words in the waking dream.
ReplyDeleteIt just seems you are noticing and growing through some struggles and sadness.