I was given at age thirty
Many vision
Many messages
Of the world to come
The first the pandemic
The war in Ukraine
And something much worse
I was also sent to tour hell
As I went through with
The protection of an arch angel
I see that gory scenes of just 3 circle and 9 sub circles
And a poison desert
For the worst of humans

The overgrown fetus does not shiver here.
Splayed like a downed bird
head under brittle arms, one eye open to
nothing. Do you see your birthright in the darkness
Dove? Do you swoop in
my wake as you sleep? Yes, dream
your keen searching stare
and your downy talons on my back
parting skin like clouds.
Still you crack and pool
and putrefy on unyielding stone
for wrath is silent without air.

She who came in my dream
Only in dreams are we still together
Everytime I woke up
And realized,
Reality is a trully nightmare
Maybe in another time,
Day,
world, or
a parallel world
We are still together
She's the reason why I have to protect my history
.....
Nadya

prior to a bare dream land,
    with consciousness scarce in hand,
the moment right before sleep,
    appear depictions mind wont keep.

vivid images now unfurled,
    an immense, graphic, real new world,
visions of intricate detail,
    astound endlessly without fail

though this night I value most,
    looking back - it seems a ghost,
is this how the others see?
    given this gift - who could I be?

maybe I had this skill before?
    with this mind, could I be sure?
now to know what I am missing,
    is it a curse or is this a blessing?

I admit I really like dreaming—
It’s the only place I can kiss him.
His touch—
I forget he doesn’t exist.

He doesn’t need to know my fate
When he gave my life a role—
He doesn’t need to know my face
When he made my heart whole—
He doesn't need to know my name
When he is half my soul—

some dream of warmth
some dream of flying

some spend mornings lying
balancing on the edge
between sleep and awake

half dreamt images
of dancing flames
closeness
heat warming their face

or lingering sensations
of falling
remembering soaring
through the sky


meeting someone
share the dream
such a rarity

find and be found
instead of searching
the reason we search

few words needed
when minds mere touch
feel like home

to know already
the smile in your voice
to words not said

the touch of your hand
in mine
without holding

few words needed
none allowed

to share a dream
is unspoken


there had been signs to indicate
you too hid matches in your coat

if one were to find them now
others not to be ignored
remember

tasting on your skin
a silent longing for
someone to share your skies


nothing now in your eyes
but squinting back to see

attempts at finding
wordless answers

some do not remember dreams
they have but half dreamt images
lingering sensations

if you had but asked
if only I had shared
I never wanted flying

I dream of fires

Our destined calm–
rusted wings of the butterfly
and freezing, slow passage of time.
You are the envelope in which lies my heart– a city of myth and ink.
You’re holding the pen.
There are dreamers like me,
for dreams like you.