A spreading of
Pandemic uneasiness
And my dream projected
My uneasiness..as
Familiar faces in
Unfamiliar places and a
Dream insistence that
This is not a dream..
At least..not this time..not
These circumstances..however
Strange..
Then the waking shock that
This dream too..was a dream..
I had been fooled once more..

Suspicions have arisen
In times past..that our joys
And sufferings..are short
Stories..entering and leaving..
Scripts for the character we
Seem to be..so might the
Pandemic be the story
Which..at last..finds us in
Serious inquiry..to discover
The Dreamer within...?

to me,
you are
an art

                              to you,
                              I was
                              a tragedy

There is fear
Planted by closeness..
By warnings posted in
The world without..
Closeness they say
Will be sharing of a
Microscopic terrorist
Lurking in our breath
Poised to leap when
The distance is right..

Is this admonition
Begging a turn inward to
Locate that place
Which is not a place
Where distance dissolves
In a newfound Calm...?

That which is All
(That which we Are)
Wrinkles and shapes
OurSelf into all those
Appearances which
Decorate our world..
Larger wrinkles are
Time and space which
Seem to house all
Wrinkles appearing..
We need to engage
Or not engage
Quickly with wrinkles
For a hot iron is now
Heating up...!

Not seeing
Births perceiving
And: I Am..
Gifting the fruit of
Our seeking for lo
So many days
And hours past...