who dreams lucidly? 8/6/19

buried in the stream-speak

as if day-dreams overrode my sleep-awake-life.

I could have vision from past lives coming forward.

I can see through the emotional camouflage of the day.

I feel for those images coming my way

by the vacant grip on the brush of my emptiness.

language is wobbly, 

trying to stand up into meaning

but the feel has surge within me.

the blood of my being is energized to discover

there is scope and grandness of scale.

my rational mind pulls out a ‘you-are-here’ map.

the all of me looks back at that and quietly laughs.

those people with the confines of property lines 

in their minds.

I am feeling for the horizon in 360 circularity.

the game of tag played 

by human ownership is silly and demeaning.

how small can security get 

and then rest its weary head?

there is an ocean of buoyancy filling my awareness.

I want lucid reality 

to complete my day life pretend.

I want a deeper and fuller dimension to rational thought.

why does my irrational feel so energized 

by that possibility coming to light?

I’m doing a thousand piece puzzle in a free fall

from the sky of livingness 

only to discover the self-assistance of all pieces

when I finally realize 

that they are magnetic to each other

only when properly placed.

and if so, there is canopy of wings,

and awnings of sight 

that become evident in all directions.

experience is not limited by timelines imposing.

immediacy has far-vision 

as if reading the lines on my hands.

I can see past lives’ relevancies wink and nod.

the storytellers shake off the age of their voices

and reveal with the import and impact forthcoming.

I come to understand high mountains’ silences

about their history unfolding before me,

how tall ancient trees, like redwoods,

properly stare at the sky as if in muted dialogue

and that the mingle of people in my life

represent a jumble of timelines 

criss-cross appearing as now.

there would be a fireworks display 

of meaningfulness before me.

I am becoming the grandeur of self embrace.

the blessed and sacred midwife of me 

into now’s presence.

day-dreams are overriding my sleepy-awake-life 

to have acknowledgment.

both tango 

as if life, this life, 

is the only dance worth the frolic . . .