#dreamweavers
The Hempstock mice know all
all that is good
and all that is bad
and all that is too horrible to be known
they are the oldest of the old
they come from a place before
the place of nothing
and the time before
the beginning of the first time before
and if you believe the rumors
or if you don’t believe the rumors
they will be here long after
the last time of all
They have traveled the abyss
and set sail in and charted the void
they can gnaw through time and space
and reality is nothing
they cannot bend
or turn
or rearrange
or extinguish with just a thought
Let us be thankful
that they are animals of kindness
creatures of wisdom
spirits of love
and mice that believe in forgiveness
Their paws are hands that craft things
all things
from the first heart of the first star
to the black feathers
of the first raven and crow
they will craft the quill and the ink
that will write last word
of the last story to ever be told
They named the gods
that named your parents
that named you
and painted the names
of tomorrows children
in the heart of yesterdays dreams
They have seen the end
since before the beginning
and when nothing comes back
they will swallow
Time
and
Dream
and
Life
and keep them safe in their belly
and gnaw through to new beginnings
and their paws will be busy hands
crafting things
all things
and when they have made
the universe comfortable once more
they will let us fall
from the belly of their womb
and we will be the children of tomorrow
born from the heart of yesterday
Oldest of the old
wisest of the wise
kindest of the kind
Mice of all mice
mothers and fathers
of love and forgiveness
The Hempstock Mice
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 8:32 PM UTC
They lay in bed breathing easy breaths of exhaustion with their fingers locking their palms in a gently kiss, his eyes starting deeply into the universe of colors in hers and softly he spoke, “I feel that I have loved you longer than I have known life, longer than I have been... I can’t remember a day or time that my heart did not know or sing your name, I can’t recall a memory that you are not a part of... as if I have loved you from within my mothers womb all the way to this very moment...it’s as if we never meet... as if somehow we just always were. Tell me, is it true... have you always been here, here in my heart... from it’s very first beat?”, he asked as he moved their hands over the middle of his chest where his heart sang below. “Or are you just a dream... or am I? Is any of this real?”
“I am not just a dream... I am Dream, I am all dreams... I am the dream of all the stars wishing to be made of flesh and I am the dream of every child wishing they could fly. I am the dream of every god wishing they were never given names. I am the dream of the salt and the blood swimming in the sea and I am the dream of every grain of sand and every leaf floating on the wind... and it is all real, as real as you and I, every dream every whispered, every dream sown into every wish... and you... you are more than just a dream... you are my first love and my last love, always, you are the time in every moment of every breath of everything I do... I can not exist or live without you and you do not live without my dream of loving you... and Life is our child, all life, and we give life dreams and love and time and let it run wild and free. We are tied to each other in mystery and magic and knowing of things that can’t be known or spoken... We exist for an eternity together and then in a moment we are gone and we sleep and we rest and all goes quite and not a thing is dreamt and time does not move or exist while we sleep...”
“And what of our love while we sleep?”
“It watches over us and keeps us safe.”
“Always?”
“Always.”
“Do we come back... do we wake up again... will we remember?”
“Yes and no and yes... you will be Time and I will be Dream again... in the time ahead, and we will live and love and dream and give life to dreams and dreams to life and time and love to both... it will all be different and it will all feel the same and this will and will not be true but it will never be a lie... a new story for a new Dream and a new Time, as there is always a time before now and a time ahead of now... but for now we will rest and sleep and love will keep us safe.”
He went to speak again and she gently pushed a finger to his lips and without making a sound Dream said, “shhhhhh... sleep, sleep Time, sleep...”
And Dream and Time slept and the time of now was gone and love sighed and sat and watched and yawned knowing what could not be known or spoken and smiled to know that the circle would come round again and Life would be born from Dream and Time and love would be there waiting to be given and shared and lost and found and broken and healed and it would laugh when it could and it would cry when it needed and no matter what, it would always be there as a part of Life and Time and Dream.
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 8:21 PM UTC
The gods do not greive for thier dead
for they know nothing is permanent
not their robes or shrouds or stars or altars or crosses
they will come and go
as light goes into dark
and dark gives into light
for they know from the first step
they take out of the void
and into names and prayers
when they will exhale and fade back into nothing
leaving only vague myths and flimsy fables
behind with their brittle bones
and they have handed down this story
and printed it on every crease and line
of every leaf of every branch of every tree
and left the equation of time and blood
and life and death
in every shed scale
of snake and fish
on every lost hair
of dog and cat and man
and the mystery
is no mystery at all
not really
the answers are questions
and the questions are answers
and nothing is so small
as not to matter
and no matter
has any weight
except for the matters of love
and love is all that is
and all that every was
and all that will every be
the mother of dreams
the robes of death
the keeper of time
the child of life
are all love
made from love
made of love
being nothing less than
being nothing more than
love
as we are all here today
made of love
made for love
made from love
and this is why
the gods do not grieve
for their dead
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 4:10 PM UTC
He stood motionless at the cliffs edge and stared out over the landscape and the ever elusive horizon, with his heart punching hard against his ribs and his breath calm and deep and steady. The air carried a warm gentle breeze and the sky held birds of black wings that sang of the sun and the stars and the moon . He was so still that he could have been an illustration on the page of a book in a story where time had been frozen and maybe he was. Maybe he was a moment stolen from eternity and sculpted into the shape of a boy holding two feathers longer than he was tall and maybe it wasn't until eternity stole that moment back that he turned and smiled as wide as the moon pretending to be a cat. Then he turned his head forward and slowly raised his arms until they were parallel with the ground and leaned forward until he fell over the edge.
He fell without fear. His mouth did not scream or make any sound, it only sat quietly on his face framing the teeth of his smile. He tucked in his legs and curled into a ball and spun and tumbled in the air. With the earth rapidly approaching, he stretched his legs back out and began to run and leap and fly through and up and into the sky.
He was a dream in the shape of a boy pretending to be a bird spreading out its wings and learning how to fly
Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 7:48 PM UTC
His body fell to the ground and his pulse slowed to a stop and the colors of life in his eyes drained to grey and the last bit of air exited his lungs and he laid there motionless and silent and his chest opened as if his ribs had been cabinet doors and his heart floated up into the sky and into the night and through space and back and forth through time and it was alone in the vast emptiness of it all and with all its scars and stitches and broken and missing pieces it hummed and it beat and it remembered...
it remembered the name in every stitch and every smile that had stolen and kept a piece of it and every heartache in the story of every scar and every love that had ever made it laugh and sing and dance and fly and it remembered all the joy and misery and failure and wonder and everything that had made its life worth living and somewhere inside it smiled
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 7:07 PM UTC
She was made of a language
no one could hear
and hand written in perfect cursive
by the scripture of the stars
and made from the sea and salt
of an ocean lost in a tear
and the color of blood
gave her lips all
of its crimson and rage
and she was there
when dreams took their first step
out into the void of the time of nothing
and she weaved his heart
from the poetry of leaves
and his bones from the past
before death had a cloak or a reason
and his flesh from
the soft skin of her kisses
and she tied the string of his heart
to the beat of her own
and no matter the story
or time of eternity
they would find one another
in the pages and between the covers
of the dreams they would have
and the life they would share
as they would invent
and discover and write
and rewrite the books of love
in the language no ears could hear
or eyes could see
but ever heart would feel
in between their first and last beat
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 6:21 AM UTC
Remember my love
as the world burns
all around you
and your wings
and flesh and bones
turn to cinder and ash
and smoke
and all things
come to a painful
and bitter end
that with death
we have reason to smile
as in her arms we find
that all that we have suffered
in life is released
to the wind of past
and briefest of memories
as we part do not neglect
or fear the aches
inside your heart
but embrace and grieve
and with each sob
and each tear
to remember
to love always
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 5:44 AM UTC
He carved her bones out of the soft spots of time
and the fires of eternity
and cooled and smoothed them in the rivers
that ran down from the mountains
where the old gods were rumored
to have gone mad and fallen asleep
beyond the knowledge and prayers
of all things that breathed and lived
and loved and hoped
He started with the caves that would form the pools
in which her eyes would sleep
and dream and wonder
and then shaped her skull around them
leaving out no detail or necessity
making each curve and line as important as the last
With her head complete he moved to each bone
that would be her spine with the same delicate care for perfection
and from her spine he then formed her ribs
making sure to reinforce each one
yet leave them flexible as it would be their function
to protect her heart and give it room to bloom and grow
He formed a bone of intricate nature
in the center and front of her
for the ribs to attach themselves to
and placed two bones along her collar
and blades on the left and right of her back
from which her arms would sway and swing
and hold things close
and then moved down and began
to chisel out the hills and arcs of her hips
where her legs would hang and twirl and spin
and then chipped away at time and eternity
to fashion every tiny bone of her feet
on which she would walk and run
and leap and dance upon
With the rest of her bones complete
he began to tenderly shape
and cut and sculpt each bone in her hand
making sure they would be pliable and limber
with a touch of delicacy and strength
for with her hands she would weave
dreams and life and love
With the last of her fingertips carved
and cooled and smoothed
and pulled from the river
he laid her bones out carefully one by one
on a blanket that he had stolen
from the robes of death
from the time before gods and men
and stars and trees and language
the time that only spirits and animals
moved through the velvet indigo
of the night sky
and prowled the cosmos alone
to their own songs and laws
He pulled thread from light not yet born
and the black from shadows yet to be cast
and twisted them together
and slowly began to pull her bones into place
and braid and twine her flesh and skin
and hair and eyes
and as her body and shape were completed
he started to weave and sculpt
and form her heart
with the most urgent of care
and within he hid the secrets
of colors to be unseen
and an endless spool of fire
and silk and blood
and the importance of kindness
and compassion
With the last stitch pulled through
and tied and knotted and cut
he had worked himself down
to nothing more than a grain of sand
and dust and wind and he smiled
a tired and worn and complete smile
She was the envy and birth of beauty
and the jealousy and creation of desire
and the first of all dreams and things to come
With her flesh and her limbs and body
and heart complete and whole
and his worn out to near nothing
they made love without their lips touching
or kissing or sighing or moaning
or making any noise at all
and without their hands sliding
or gliding or holding
or their limbs twisting or tangling
or bending or contorting
they plunged through love
and fell into the river
and walked over the mountains
and tip toed past the sleeping gods
of old and forgotten lore
and danced and slept
in the fires of eternity
until she had dreamt of making him
and he had forgotten of making her
and both stories were true
and both only a dream
and some where in the distance of the past
where the time before once lived
and death and dream and love
once fought and lost and won
the wars and battles of long ago
something smiled and then vanished
Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 4:13 PM UTC
Standing on the corner where all oceans end
Teaching starfish how to fly high up into the sky
And giving them words to sing of lullaby and dream
A never ending task as the starfish come and go
As wishes take their light and life
And they fall back into the breaking waves and mist
To take a moments rest from twinkling through eternal night
Until they feel the soft touch of the hand
Of the girl at oceans end
Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 2:28 AM UTC
Her stomach swelled with dreams and love and blood and life as she slowly dragged her fingers carefully down her milky white skin and she arched her back in anticipation as her palms found their resting place at the bottom of her belly where she paused momentarily and then gently slid and stroked and patted and parted and opened and bled and from her blood flowed eternity and from its river swam love and dreams and from dreams life was spun and weaved and in life love had found its home
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 10:06 PM UTC
Broken pieces of the moon scattered across the indigo dreams of the dead and the sky swallowed all the lost colors of love spilling out of the void left behind from where the crescent smile of the night once sang the lullaby that comforted the desperate prayers of the lonely and what salacious fiend would **** the guardian of the dark hours and leave the man without his home in the night and all the stars could do was weep as they watched indigo dreams pull every last broken piece of the moon into their rotting teeth of death and the forever of malicious lost midnights
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 9:45 PM UTC
I am a brother to the endless and a curator of time I am the penny and the wish and the water and the well and I always have a bakers dozen that I will trade for a dime and I've spared the life of a fish or two and mended the wings on the backs and the hearts of all fairies and I've argued with fate and I've lost and I've won and I was there before god and the devil laid out the blue prints of heaven and hell and I sold them the parchment and ink and the quils and the names that they signed on a contract that gave birth to them both and I gave one of them clouds and the other one fire and then slipped back to the echos of silence in the wake of the first dream and their in the dark before blood and time had rhythm or flow I watched dreams weave dream after dream and each was connected to the thread of the first stitch that made the first flower of love and that is the same thread that connects us all to the sands and the winds and the dream that is love
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 2:58 AM UTC
She was lost to the sad music fumbling weakly from the broken song box he placed in her heart and he was drowning in the sea of sorrows where within its pounding waves of fury he found her beautiful corpse and they lived on the inside of mirrors on the opposite side of loves dream and neither their palms or their lips could touch without filling with countless splinters of glass and the taste of salt and blood and lust locked their every kiss to clear views of eternity and a sharp pain cut through the skin and bone and soul as their hands embraced and fingers tangled but the thought of letting go was far more agonizing for either to bare and they both tied an anchor of melancholy hope to their ankles and peacefully sank through the misery and darkness of the world outside of their mirrors and smiled mad smiles at one another as their anchors tangled and came to rest at the bottom of Oceans End and watched their lips bleed and drip and spell the others name and they were lost and found in the place they would never come together and never be apart from opposite sides of the same dream
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 2:26 AM UTC
She lives on the other side of dreams spending most of her time sitting on the bottom side of rainbows and every night locks of her hair paint each star in the sky and she always carries food for lost caterpillars and hummingbirds and knows the secret language of honey bees and butterflies and her favorite color is only known to the first leaf of the first branch of a tree older than time and life and she only ever shares it with those who know the truth and magic of love and if you ever get lost between dreaming and Oceans End all you have to do is close your eyes and reach out into the dark and she will pull you to the other side and dream you a pair of wings and some food and teach you how to speak to the bees and a butterfly will give you directions to not necessarily home but to the place your heart needs to go
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 6:37 PM UTC
She wove life from the threads and fate of dreams and she was and wasn't a dream herself
She had filled the first hourglass with the sand of the desserts of the time before and upon flipping it over set the hands and gears of the first clock in motion
There is no secret buried in the endless depths of the ocean she doesn't know and she was the one that had arranged and named every twinkling orb in the night sky
Using nothing but a small kiss and a sprinkle of magic from the colors of her eyes she brought dead starfish back to life and taught them to dance in the palms of her hands
And when she wasn't choreographing new ballets for the fish in her hands and the stars in the sky
She was collecting lost dreams and broken hearts and suturing the cracks closed and finding them new roads to follow and teaching laughter to the tears they had shed
And if you are every lost between always and heartache if you follow the roads and the sky of the starfish ballet you will find her sitting and waiting to weave you a new day and a new dream and a new fate under the street sign that reads
Oceans End
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 1:23 AM UTC
I am from the blue sky threads of heaven and the black iron flames of hell
I am innocence bathed in sin
I am hatred betrayed
and killed by kindness
I walk the hard concrete of sidewalks
lost along the roads
of tragedy and romance
I am ghost and soul and body
inside the hollow shell of an empty heart
searching for the echo of a memory of a song that was forgotten
before it was ever sang
I am time frozen and crumbled and wasted
and trapped in hours of broken glass and freed by howling winds
and raging seas
where seconds expand past eternity
and minutes outweigh the value
of hours and days and weeks and years
I am infant and small and weak
I am old and aged and frail
I am woman and man and devil and god
and strong and wise and wicked and worn
I am dream and truth
I am death and illusion
I begin at the end
and end at forevers first
footstep
I am flesh and blood and time
I am love
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 1:36 AM UTC
I often think of love and death
For they often seem the same
One cannot exist without the other
It is the end of suffering
That we find in the kindness
In the lips of their kiss
There is both the thrill and fear of the unknown
When we feel the approach of either one
Too often fear has the stronger pull
For even the excitement of the thrill can terrify us
We run from love we could embrace
For fears of its validity its vitality its inevitable end
The pain and suffering we see in its wake
We use our past failures and misconceptions of love
To judge and misdirect our current and future interactions with love
It is hard to belive that love is immortal
When we belive ourselves to be not
To live in fear of death
Only robs us of moments
We could better spend in the pursuit and hands of love
We cannot escape death
We cannot out run its grasp
We cannot avoid its breath
We cannot hide behind locked doors from it
Yet we often fear it as if fear will shield us from its inevitable kiss
And once again in spending time with fear
We are only losing moments we could better enjoy in the pursuit of life
It is in this pursuit of life we should find freedom from fear
That death is not a thief of immortality
And that we find ourselves immortal when we embrace love
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 11:34 AM UTC
What if the sun was a fish of golden flame
What then would the moon reflect
Would the earth be a bubble
Would space be a sea
What would become of
All this human misery
If the sun was a fish
With fins of fire
Swimming here and there
Going wherever it did please
Would the moon be a minnow
Forever bound to follow
Would the earth be a dream
Would god be the water
Would the devil be the worm
Would love be free to swim
Without fear of aches and pains
Without mans clumsy hands
To break the heart
Of the sun swimming
With golden fins ablaze
Anywhere and everywhere
And never ever
Ever
Would love be
Touched by our
Human misery
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 9:32 PM UTC
I am a disciple of love
And I've visted the
Ignorant temples of hate
I've walked down the road
and back again
I've argued and won and lost
battles with fate
I've sat by the devil
with his face full of tears
I've swam and I've drowned
In the salt and the lust
hidden within
I've lost the poetry of this god
and that god and found
The meaning of dreams
in the void on the page
I've choreographed the unwritten
time and space
between the heart beats of love
I've placed leaps and pirouettes
on its pulse and its flow
I'm stuck in the moment between
infancy and death
I struggle to understand the hatred
breeded by man
When in reach of every breath
Is the definition of compassion and kindness
And all they want to breathe in
Is their loathing and fear
When you are ready to
set your mind free
Just look to the stars and the sun
and the moon
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 11:30 PM UTC
Were you there to see the dream birds
As they carried the sun and moon
and stars
Up into the sky
when Lilith was just
a girl named Lilly
Did you witness when she
pulled them straight
out of her dreams
As she walked through
the wordless stories
written in the sand
Who was there to watch
before the beginning
of it all
Back in the time before
in the time after
When love gave its final
breath and hope
To dream of a girl
who would dream
us all to life
To weave and dream
against the void
And give life and breath
back to love
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 10:17 PM UTC