I came back to the poem with more ideas,
Trying to wake up the unsuspecting reader
To walk with them though my stories
I didn’t want them to think I was rapping
nor was I singing the blues

Poetry is no longer frightening
Like a sudden force of lightening;
Awakening your senses to the art
From the start: to the fuzzy end

I dared you not to walked away from this piece
However, I beg of you to read this piece with ease
Today, I wish that the little birds on my window
Will sing to me, but instead the cold morning breeze
kept them away:
An exciting dimension of their songs makes my day
Comes alive:

In my lucid dream last night, I saw beach goers
Watching the tides go in and out:
way down the harbor road
Their soak their feet in a stream
of warm running water

So I took a seat and I joined the relaxing crowd
Dreams are scarier, more than poetry.

Sadness flies on the wings of the morning and out
of the heart of darkness comes the light. ~Jean Giraudoux

I came back to this poem with a sense of knowing, that a

*Poet can survive everything but a misprint Oscar -Wilder

Sun Gate by moonlight
The Ruins below glimmering
Dream light  shines bright  
Ancient magic shimmering

To our souls the dreamscape experience is real
Our Consciousness connected -- together we stand
So much unknown except what I feel
The flutter of my heart, the touch of his hand

We take flight through the mist
As the world below gleams
Adventure beckons and I can't resist
So Mountain Man became the Man of My Dreams

to test the waters
where they are fast and cold
or lucid and warm
tips of toes dipping in.

to sample flavors
where they are harsh and bitter
or creamy and sweet
tips of tongues dipping in.

dreams are weird. they’re like experiences that you think are true, but are not.
dreams are barely lucid. there are bits and pieces you can remember, and then you can’t.
dreams are perspective changers. you can no longer see the people around you the same way again—
not if they contribute to a disturbing dream you had.
dreams are painful. if you fall in it, you fall in real life.
it’s an out-of-body experience.
i hope to have better dreams;
or dream no more.

i dream of you i dream with you,
following the musings of the aching poet
blathering hyperbolic verbiage
into subconsciousness
where we leave entwined mortal bodies
for the impalpable enclave
we have created.

i dream of you i dream with you,
in sleep our minds meld
over aching bodies
and lift our spirits
to the ethereal nether-realm,
where we roam
for eons
sauntering through the fields
of ecstasy.  

i dream of you i dream with you,
where the groans of the spirit
and its insatiable yearnings
find solace in the vastness
of the tangent universe,
existing outside our mortal guise,
alluded in our mind’s eye—
it’s heaven
built by you and i.

i dream of you i dream with you,*
in lucid dreams
where we know we are asleep,
but we just laugh whilst
walking through the gates of eternity
flourishing in the eternal splendor
we have created.

Sometimes I wake up
During disturbing dreams
Bathed in my own sweat
Realty is not what it seems
It's a unfathomable
Paradox
And the key
To my subconscious Pandora's box
Is lost in my waking reality
From which cannot open.

This night as I lay upon a smoky stone
Seven lines I say, my mantras own.
Adrift in the sky as my prayers atone,
Im alive here, now in the astral zone.

As fear becomes strength my nemesis fell
Tempting my faith, *** heiress, my grail.
Her face became snake like, her skin turning pale,
A wraith to be slaughtered, lust could not prevail.

With powers of godlike capacity,
I take flight over towers immensity.
Propelling me forward, towards destiny,
My unlimmited source of ecstasy.

Beyond what is light, I could never know
Blinded by fright, moralities throne.
Duality is as simple a god can be shown,
For man is both astral, still birthed from stone.