Peering down from a terrestial heap,
contemplating the debate at the seams,
exposing dim lights and the ones asleep.

I sat awake, in solitude, lost like a sheep.
Per(re?)ceiving all the secrets in ones dreams;
beneath the veil, and the ones that we keep.

What the bars in ones mind are made of are cheap:
confining and containing what one can gleam
from the empty gaps and the mental leaps.

I hope those objects and night-lights help you sleep;
Plato's shadowy projections move with moonbeams,
the brimful moon ebbing causes the shadows to creep.

The farside is bare, in twilight;
the mind becomes a maverick:
turning fireflies to winking sprights.

Can you regard all that I see
when you dream with eyes-closed?
And In your dream do people speak in poem or prose?

Are you transmitting dimensions of three
or are you given your dreams?

Do you wonder who contains those moments
and where they are received?

If heaven is dreaming nigh
I wonder what we would be

If God sent a message
what might be the presage;
And what might be the conveyance?

When you're dreaming Angels touch the ground,
revealing all that is bound.
~dancing with the beyond~
And (angels) evaporate in the dawn, or atleast seeming..

Let your eyes unlock~
Quick! The Gates are sealing
Run to recapture all that they've been stealing:
From all those who wish to lower your cieling.

---

A gypsy is whistling who's been up all night.
The dreams of many slip into hidden spaces:
Closets and under the bed; spirits dissipate.

As morning's light eminates
What do you see?

I dream of you /
As I slumber /
Knowing that sequestration /
Is not the eternal fate of this starry-eyed vagrant. /

I believe, in the power of love, /
I know that faith is my redeemer; /
Therefore, I beseech the aethers, /
That you will one day be by my side. /

In the light of love, we are made intemerate, /
We are, like a baptistery, washed clean, /
Anointed in this hallowed elixir /
I do not relinquish my hope. /

(—Se’ lah)

On the peak I dream

of La Vie Parisienne --


in Tijuana.

Falling sound asleep
Your fingers tickle me
I look at you with glassy eyes
You look at me with fire

Soft murmurs carry me
Up into the clouds
And so myself starts to wonder—
Could this really be love?

the sea fills me up till there is no more space for dying
thoughts turn themselves into a boundless edge
the wind tells me there is only wonder
seashells have forgotten the stories of the depth
my hands want  to rediscover their dreaming
wild birds try the geometry of the sky
and whispers they become

the night is darker on your lips
my hips are dreaming while
your touch is searching for its meaning

We never really knew each other.

Sure, we texted nonstop.
You stared at me in the halls.
But missed chances and glances were all we had.
We never had a real conversation.
(Maybe things would have been different if we did.)

All my memories of you
consist of my face lit by a bright screen,
sitting in the darkness of my bedroom,
wishing for you—desperately—at 11:11.

silence, heat, witnessing and forgetting, waiting, dried flowers in my hearing, they all grow wiser in the light that doesn't stop growing
shhh, I don't want to disturb you when your body is dreaming

The luxury of the imagination is the
dream without boundaries.

I am the keeper of time
The universe is my domain

Flying through time
is simply a thought manifested

You're mine again
You're here in my arms

I have total control
No broken hearts

Smiles and laughter abound
I can feel you again

Touch you again
Your spirit fills the room

Trying hard to hang on
Reality is the battle I'm fighting

If I let go, you're gone
If I hang on, I'm gone