Cold rain falls in the river, flows down to the sea, gets into the skyline, circles endlessly. Same old rain on the wind, same old pain in my soul.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

I dreamed a highway

I feel today, that all I have left is my dreams. Though far and distant they are, beautiful they fill my heart. Don't pity me this. I'll take them over earthly goals,fancy houses and a six figure salary. They fill my soul with hope and gladness and colours unimagined. The sky is painted with a brush of the arm and all are called friend. There's no jealousy in my dreams, only love abounding and cups overflowing. Here, the lion truly lays with the lamb. And bunnies aren't shot for sport or run over by loud trucks. Here, also, lovers find quiet, if only for the moment. Everything, after all, is about the moment. Isn't it?


I dreamed a highway
and beauty in passing
where wild flowers bloomed
sweet and pure
perfumed in satin undergarments



a place of blossomed menagerie
a scented lure on nature's canvas
waving as one in spirited worship



here,
hills led to meadows that fell to silent ponds.
those that played here played free.
farmer Brown's fence could not take root
nor the Deacon's chapel pervade
such a holy gathering of peace



here,


all clovers count four and beyond
and trees live forever



rabbits play with the fox's tail
and fish lean to logs, resting their fins
the hawk suckles the sparrow's orphan
and the blue fabric of our covering
stretches our dreams to fit our desires



I dreamed a highway
and you were there
flagging me down in naked beckoning
and careless want wearing quiet repose



the world fell to seaside cliffs
and dungeons and dragons
churning diesel motors in violent quest
saying more more always the more



your hand to mine said love the less
and live the more
leave it all for my pastured door
and fields of turquoise
beyond the violent drone



I dreamed a highway
where the moon kept score
where the owls patrolled
and the night passed on summer wings of easy.



the world's shame and poverty's passion
could not take root nor lean to tangled bent fences
but passed over us on the winds of freedom
along with the many cloaks we wore
and the flames from darted eyes



I dreamed a highway
and you were there


and maybe still are...


~Rick