Parable Of A Dream
pre-dawn mourning today
full-moon hiding, revealing itself
later, reds-pinks-whites-permeated-clouds
temperature is moderate for this time of year
so we have been informed—”at any rate”, as ‘they’ sometimes say,
this seems to mean something
the old evergreens love these full moons
swaying and singing their silent songs
and the littlest birds, brown in color, once they awaken,
begin singing hidden within the evergreens
they always sit up there facing eastwards towards the dawning Sun
they greet the light emerging- taking up their attention
we know how to distract ourselves from anything unpleasant
blind dance with shadowy darkness
I get tired of a fatal fascination with shade,
to be able to remember and turn towards
the light always shining, like the littlest brown birds-
light hitting those obscurations, causing the heatless shadows
it is very difficult to get over a mental gravity
the lowest plane can drag the mind,
like the evergreens powerless-
swaying passively in the cunningly constructed imaginariam
personal shadow full of what is not wanted
empty of calm awareness- hiding from restlessness
taking the other way- the gravity defying way
the higher, not to be bound to just five senses
on some one or another shadow defying plane
open to the Light, bursting boundaries of temperature
all uphill, melting mountains, climbing shadows
steps hiding, revealing like the full moon
