Dreamer

SOC Writing_ 11.9.21

Dreamer

I am a dreamer of dreams – a writer of worlds – a peasant in these dusty clothes – asking only to be taken in – asking only to be seen – as I am – feeling like I do that these is never enough world  - never quite enough to make me feel – whole. Whole worlds open up in me as I make myself available to you. Why would I shrink back in love? Close down to the store houses I have built up for the famine that never came in my life time – the harvest is plenty – the workers they are few - so much – arriving in these times – for the awakened heart – to muster the sheep towards their freedoms and the mother with the one black lamb has been left behind – and a full prodigy is now adrift on the grassy seas - left behind by farmer - by agriculture, drenches, gates, doges barking - and the eventual works – off with his head they say and I gladly give myself up for public consumption – we still need scapegoats – will we always as a species? Unable to know and see our demons – always good at the heart -  always looking for connection even when in war - always a broken connection – a severed tie that leads to our most dastardly behaviours – I wonder if in me – in my waring members – the lonely existence of the monk in the mountains – an unbearable loneliness as there is none to share the intimate feelings – or take in the view – I loved being alone with you in the sea of eating faces - alone and transfixed on your eyes – pools of black and colour – I had not see this before – did not know you could be this way – the tone of your voice fully digestible to my ears this time – not feeling any bullshit - just heartfelt moments of this truth – tumbling outwards and memories of how we first fell in love – how you first saw me – when you describe this I am freshly astonished – like this must still be something I don’t  deserve – so I wake up with myself beside yourself – vowing to take this day in hand - continue to dance and be joyfully grateful for every moment.