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The Creature and the Dream

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There wafts upon a forlorn breeze
Through the boughs of swaying trees
A consciousness, a sound
That one day was found

By a creature in fitful sleep
In caverns old and caverns deep
That dreamt of lands forlorn
Where air was sweet and man unborn

And troubles melt away
As the sun dims at the closing day
Upon a whim he could soar
In this land of wonders galore

But then he came, that man
With the silken hair and golden tan
Who lusted for a wealth untold
Who woke this creature old

He asked such questions to anyone drive mad
And the creature in his sleep never had
Answered an inquiry or phrase
That did not pertain to those blissful days

He cared nothing for our ways
Thus sending the man into a craze
With his tales of that land of dreams
That melds with time and seems

To flow with rivers young and old
Every drop a tale untold
Every flower a luscious tune
That lulls one with its pulsing croon

The clouds in that imagined land
Drift down with a gentle hand
And caress the trees and leaves
And take form of all in which you believe

The very heavens lay open for all to see
And the beings on high float around free
Above the rivers, above the stones
That lie on the cliffs of oceans alone

That man of mystery wanted to see
That land in which he could be
All that he’d ever dreamed
And all that’d ever seemed

To trouble him would melt away
At the beginning of every day
As the clouds floated upon the sweetest breeze
Telling tales passed on by ancient trees

As he could lie in a meadow and gaze at all
That transpired from spring to fall
And fall into a dream within a dream as he slept all winter long
And awake to the Rose’s lilting song

There wafts upon a forlorn breeze
Through the boughs of swaying trees
A consciousness, a sound
That one day was found
By a creature and a man deep
In a blissful sleep

That may be yours someday
As you wander away
From the shelter of your home
And into the deep roam

To only find a pair of creatures comatose
That weave a story once woke
Of a land of dreams
Where the heavens lie open for all to see

And you may speak to the roses and trees
And as you listen your mind clouds over and begins
To fade into a land of dreams
That melds with time and seems
To flow with rivers young and old
Every drop a tale untold





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MrsD said...
Sept. 7, 2008 at 11:23 pm
I really like your poetry, Ben. Keep writing!
 
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