Jar of dreams

Somewhere within
The smallest dusty crevice
Of my mind
Lies a small jar
Filled to overflowing
With questions to rhyme or reason.
Potions for healing
Letters lost and found
Ideas that seemed to shrivel
And get tossed aside,
Keep company with the vessel
As entwined in eternity
All a part of the whole.
Sometimes I cross the bridge
Into the looking glass
To refresh my mind
Of what is hidden,
Sometimes returning with a speck
Of an answer
Or a piece of enchantment,
Sometimes I go and nothing is there.
My little jar
Plays at hide and seek
Amusing me with the antics
Of an unruly child,
Yet I love this place.
My inner corner of goodness,
dreams and wishes smoothed into a tired mind,
Comforting energy.
The visit fills me with pieces of whimsy
Laughter and calming
Peace and love.
I often wonder if I am the only one
Who has a place like this
Put away in the corner
Sometimes forgotten
But when revisited ah, that joy found
When the jar spills over
And you carry away the overflow,
Your little pieces of yesterday
I don’t visit often but I know it is there,
Like an attic with treasures
The jar of dreams of my mind.

35 thoughts on “Jar of dreams

  1. Beautiful poem and I love the picture of the jars. What a great visual to go with your poem. I think we all have some jars of dreams, sometimes they get pushed to the back of the shelf and we need to take them out and shake them up, which I am going to do today.


  2. The more you trust to take the top off the jar and let a few of those dreams escape, grow, expand, explore the more joy you find in your everyday. Then you can spread this joy to those around you, those you pass by, those you don’t even speak too. It is an incredible thing to open to and listen to your inner spirit/soul the park of you that is pure, dreamy, full of glowing light. She wants to be part of your everyday, not forgotten, in a jar on the shelf only visited when you remember. She is there, always, ready to offer her truth which will always bring more love and joy to the expanded you. Beautiful poem, I open my jar in the morning, every morning as I just wake up, making sure she is happy and ready for the world that day.


  3. That’s pretty…. both the picture and the poem! Stupid question, sorry…. what’s in the jars?? I love things that glow in the dark like that! 🙂


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