The light of sleep grows into a conduit of more than imagination.
How will we all know the second coming?
Magic without interpretation is dreamless sleep pierced by silent interactions.
Does the woman of my dreams dream me?
Endorphins create vivid clarity allowing the tempo of my heart to chart new courses through reality.
Infinite paths omnipotently directed enter twine our minds.
A glimpse here
A peep there
A wisp of air
Revelation and enlightenment embrace.
Visions interlace meditation hand-in-hand…Zen
Distant currents of air transcend outstretch branches of megalithic trees.
All must have movement to speak
Breath mouths the words.
Wind carries the trees words.
Ancient hidden canyons echo far off storms; drops of rain shape prehistoric clayen jars.
Forces of nature, nature not to nurture force.
“Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water”. (John 7:38)
Water rushing eons etching cryptic stone.
Wisps of air evoke a sensual light, flecks of gold and silver upon butterfly wings move across a valley’s floor awakening much more than experience.
The touch of a perfectly placed word travels through streams of a pristine lush forest in full bloom.
The long ago forgotten seed springs to life.
Hundreds of years it will grow.
The air that has always been again moves the tree branches voice caring words to listeners watching the flicker of truth.
See all poetry for Steven Carter #150088