Dream poetry
Let your dreams fly.
Let your dreams fly.
We listen to bells all day long, and whether they’re in our heads or worked by others, we never pay attention to them. But bells were once used for attention- beauty and a lustrous metal ring that spreads like a sheet over many beautiful places.
I know that it isn’t much to say listen, but if we are in tune with the archaic stage that we have surpassed, maybe we would feel better. Maybe these emotions would hurt less. Maybe they would make more sense and we could appreciate why we were designed the way we are.
So then, why have we changed into a faminous, and touchy kind?
The forests flourish,
in the sun and moon,
bathing in the wind that carries the birds,
from continent to continent,
where they encounter,
an imperial edifice,
bound to the earth by cement and strain,
for as they claim still,
to reminisce in the cold days of yesteryear,
and liberation,
that the sprouts burst open,
spilling their secrets to the sky,
and bleeding into the rivers.
