What Dreams Will Come

I am not always sleeping quickly. Sometimes I just get up and write a poem, seems a nice way to spend the time whilst I wait for what dreams will come. Perhaps I remember in the morning.

WHAT DREAMS WILL COME

The sleeping beauty of love,
awaits her prince of peace,
adrift on steams of consciousness,
undercurrents of truth,
a gulf stream of infinity,
where the phytoplankton photosynthesize
new ideas into eternity,
for when one looks into the eyes,
to examine the pupil,
one finds the teacher lays dormant,
awaiting the lesson,
a crystal clear awareness,
dreams up new worlds to come.

All dreams can come true,
one can fly,
on the winds of endless possibilities,
there is no impossible staircase,
for in this world the artist creates,
and light generates,
as lanterns illuminate,
drifting up into the sky,
a million wishes,
whispered as the prayer for the future.

Intention is the light,
Desire is the wind,
Allowance watches the light illuminate the future,
from the past,
to free fall into new dreams,
joining endless seams,
for gold deposits are the alchemy,
transmuting fear into love,
as one learns to fly,
before you jump.

So curl up,
keep warm,
safe under covers,
as the quilt of your pen,
finds new words to script,
for our own story is encrypted by metaphor,
we decide the characters, the score and the plot,
for the plot of the future is sustainable,
it is sociable,
it finds community in harvesting abundance,
fearlessly,
for soils of aluvial gold will revegitate,
for oil is the fools gold that agitates,
the sand in Shell regenerates the pearl,
for there will be solutions for pollution,
toxic waste will become inert,
as we place our hands in the dirt,
and remember the true bounty,
was not a mutiny as the ship sinks,
but all hands on deck,
for rough seas are up ahead,
but I see far to the horizon from the crows nest,
a silver lining beyond clouds,
a sunset on old paradigms,
northern lights go south,
for the mouth that speaks of love,
finds the river of life,
carries you away breathless,
into the dream of a new dawn,
shedding new light,
dissipating islands of separation.

Now I yawn,
for I know my dream is real,
as I close my eyes I can rest,
for each day is a new test,
dawning new memories,
teaching me love over fear,
as I am letting go of tears,
to find joy rekindling REAL HOPE,
that aligns,
in time,
with my true nature.

Sweet dreams,
all are friends
in the end,
as endings bring new beginnings,
a new start,
the apple cart,
before the horse,
before the tree,
leaves the seed,
of what dreams will come.