The Dream

Once, while the sea was green
The unpeopled beach
Stretched its naked arms
About the liquid plane,
I lay listening to the waves licking the thirsty sands
With moistened laughter
Gently teasing its eager edge.

The bold, hot sun shone
Crowning each wave’s capricious crest
A timid zepher rippled the sea grass
That grew in curious knots above the dunes.

The heated sand, pleased at the shade of my sleepy limbs
Yielded up a hidden coolness from beneath its glassy surface
And wrapped its morphic arms about my minds ambling.
Sleep hung in the haze and slipped unnoticed past my guarding eyes.

From out of the blackness that is sleep,
A voice, no, not a voice
but a distant choir of wind plucked reeds
called, or rather played a tune so soft
as if to soothe, and in soothing,  drew close my floating soul.

I stood in pleasant wonder and saw my sleeping body all soulless white,,
Lying limp upon the sand.
I took as step, a small one, mind you,
As if to test this sudden separateness
And as a ship that long against her anchor tugged,
Suddenly finding her cable free,
Sailed into the currents of the air.

I stumbled on my fear, but did not sink,
And slowly drifted towards an isle
That rose in greeting from the sea
And caught me as a feather,
the wind had chanced to lift aloft.

I gazed about this orient isle in childlike wonder.
Upon the mantled vines hung purple grapes and green.
From a hidden
Spring, a crystal stream bubbled clear and pure
Into a shaded pool of secret depths, soft and cool.

A remembered voice called my name,
Not in a word, but in the music of a forgotten dream.
Startling like a timid  deer
To the sudden sound  of raindrops on a nearby leaf
I whirled about.
Her laughter rippled on the shaded pool