The Dream

Before the shimmer of colour dissolves into images
& the senses synchronise,
before objects gain permanence
& noise becomes language,
as instinct urges
the first scream of protest,
the craving begins:

to touch & to be touched.

A dream proceeds through the senses,
through sadness, through elation,
through bitter-sweet isolation,
& the aleatory revelation
when first we notice the symmetry
between our veins & those
of the leaves:

the dream that we can reach out to touch
the essential nothingness
at the heart of our existence.

Melancholia is our mourning for,
& fucking our delirious affirmation of,
this dream;
is our abstract acceptance
that the dream is impossible,
& your smile is the only reason
I sometimes still believe that it isn’t,

there are more ways than one
to touch & to be touched…

I’m a ghost, & I write for others like me: those that are a part and apart from the world as we usually see it…

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3 thoughts on “The Dream

  1. A lovely poem with a beautiful message.

  2. I agree Luna.
    there are more ways than one
    to touch & to be touched…”

    A amazing poem dear Poet.

    1. You agree with Words of Ghosts. Make sure to check out his blog! 😀

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