poesie

A Dream

her dream rode on a sleeping mist
of poppy dust upon the breeze
and in that cloud most sensuous
I let the dream take hold of me
and breathed deep of her reverie
to discover her intent
and in my thoughts our dreams entwined
to please them with the consequences
that should arise if dream became
palpable, not fantasy
the bounds imagined overcome
by tangible reality.

The End

over these eternal plains
we make mountains of the clouds
and thunder is the voice of gods
that do there dwell
with majesty endowed
beyond the ears of mortal men
the grasslands hear their word
within the distant sacred rumbling
an end to days is heard
this deep foreboding of the darkness
our nature’s final mystery
the storm cries out the death knell
of you and them and me.