Advance: What am I missing, I asked myself, perhaps nothing, I answered my second self. Then I said, let the actions about to happen, happen! Who besides God, knows what is missing in ones life anyhow? a rhetorical question at best.
Perhaps it is the path I am looking for, I ask myself; the one that very few find. Perchance I should worry about bridges falling, instead of trucks coming to save me. O yes, you are not aware of the riddle of the dream yet, not yet anyway, and then you will understand what I am saying here.
Dreams are like clouds, some grow heavy inside of you; some have thunder and go away; still some are like rain that drives you here or there. Some wipe out boundaries, others bring you a great harvest. But there are also shadows and riddles in dreams; windows that quicklyafterwardsdisappear into thin air, but nonetheless they are there (were there), for a moment or two: like seashells, with an incoming tide: in a moments time, the outgoing tid e will wash them away, back into the sea where they came from, some will be left on the shore, some I say, part of the riddle I would guess.
We are really but a guest inside our own bodies on earth, and conceivably, in the next world. Like guests I say, like those seashells we were talking about: thus, for a moments time, on the shores of your dreams we can be left likewiseId guess; rising and falling with the tide (fantasy has its own face, like salvation and ghosts, death, all with a satisfied desires, a truths, secrets lingering).
But lets leave for the country where the dreams are born, and the riddles live. There the skies are always bright or dark, not much in-between, and the moon rides on a silly donkey, and the world on a fat shelled turtle. Here, poems are made to touch the secrets of the mind, as the mind hurls out dreams when it wants to tell youin a less harmful waythose secrets. Maybe you can dream a little when you read this, so the riddle sugge sts.
The Poems:
I had been driving on this highway, in my car, I must had gotten tired When I awoke, I found myself stalled was on its curb (somewhat);
I had slept the night away (or so, that was my best guess). Thus, onward I went, straight ahead, leaving behind, whatever was. Where I was going besides straight ahead, I m not sure of, just going. Then I found myself on this transverse (crossroads) of sorts; again I found myself crossing them, and heading (it would seem) north. I went under these bridges, and the farther I went, the deeper the mud
until that is, until the car could not move: hence, I abandoned the car. I looked about, I looked forward to continue my journey but it was not
to be, the mud was too thick, for man or car to move about in it
freely!
I looked back; I had gone too far to return, Id not make it, too exacting
and I was too exhausted. I looked at where I was at: hereit was not possible for me to remain
and survive that is (plus where was I? I didnt know). There were truck tracks all about, several feet thick, and the road
several lanes wide. What can I do? I said, bridges over head, What truck could ever drive
through this?
All this I was facing, a dilemma if not a riddleI tried to escape this dream-
vision, but it would not fadego away. So I had little choice, but to stay where I was at, and somehow the riddle
told me to wait, be patient, but action is what I was used to. The riddle said: Remain where you are (for man does not live on bread
alone)) does he?)) Then it occurred to me, beyond my realm of reasonthere is less
limitations, And so in my mind I created a multi dimensional truck, one that could
pass through all this damn mud, one that could reach Beyond the tops of the bridges without damaging a thing (possibilities).
Im still waiting under that bridge, perhaps when I wake up and write this
out, more possibilities will surface;
Perchance, just by waking up, is a possibility, and solves the riddle.
Perhaps the only way to find out the secrets, are in ones sleep. Maybe we are the seashells waiting to be pulled back into the sea, the
Universe, where we came frommore possibilities. Whatever, or is it wherever the answer lies, we are in the middle I do
believe, and the riddle has told me: there are more possibilities.
#1286 3/20/2006 from a dream [from: Lima, Peru
See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Poetry
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