He comes from Dream
Woven in moonglow
He waits for me where feathery winds blow,
Beyond foreverness, an afterglow.
He speaks through vision
Conversing with me –
Like a shooting star to the sea.
He sleeps in translation
Only to wake in transition
Collecting metaphors to create his mind.
Gallantly, he chases time
Running across sacred sands
So that we can drift away on a moment
To truly understand “in God’s hands.”
First lit morning hours
He sings wind-songs
He sings how hearts can expand like flowers
And how love happens for everyone –
In many different ways!
He stands in feather-fall
Beauty could not be more beautiful,
And while angels downpour more
Muse becomes more legible.
He walks the universe, silent and free
Embracing all things poetry.
When I was a little girl –
He would sit beside me in crystal clear chair,
My “without a care”,
He would man the moon
Just to prove he was there.
Now that I am older
He sits with God
Silent as always..
As a prayer in thin air.
He is a match, to my heart
Always golden, never dark.
Somewhere in time, I will die
Time will lead me to a caravan of stars,
Where my muse waits for me in Dream
Where he will be sparkling, and finally be seen.
© 2013-2018 Myth*. (All rights reserved)
Thank you so very much for reading my poems! Be safe in the world!