Voice of a dream

Lost in the atmosphere,
moon slips in and out of cosmic clouds
patterned after my thoughts
on this cold-hearted night.
Luna Moon sits gently waiting
and I know at dawn I will find here there still,
sailing high in the blue sky
like an eye on the mere mortals
that scurry below on grounded roads.
Where would we go if we could fly to touch
her stoic white porcelain face,
to float in her space
paying homage to the beauty found,
would we come crashing to the ground
when all was said and done,
as her fickle self kept moving
round and round,
would she speak to us once more
through the dreams we cherish,
curled in the warm cotton cocoon waiting,
would she spin us in her orbit
like small children again,
merrily we would roll along
beside her mighty form
and so very small we would be
dancing in her shadow
in and out of the light of the cloud
that shrouds her at times,
she always finds us though
waiting….always waiting for more,
another glimpse
and another space between slivers of days
that pass as fast as she
on cold November nights.

Image found on Pixabay

Moving hue

Spreading thin
added shades to blend within
the spectrum of beauty rises
like a subtle dream flows
through the mind that patiently sits
waiting in repose.
Beauty unearthed
from empty pages
blank with welcome
the hand follows the theme
of images flowing from deep wells,
the mind spins in eagerness
splashing the dream of what will be
across the naked space.
Have I been here?
Where do these colors thrive
with the intensity of scenes remembered
from a long gone dream
brought forth as the hand moved gently
spinning rainbows in water
as beauty and thoughts flow
like rain on parchment.

Adrift and flying

Sitting on the edge of consciousness,
the dream floats just beyond reach
as water moves recklessly closer
we remain on the banks just watching,
gazing at the brightest blue skies
we see movement of the mirage below.
Bits of colors skittering back and forth
and water tarnished by disease
we fear the scene
and long to remain tightly nestled,
wrapped in our cocoonm
rising above we float
adrift on the hopes
of a better day.
So much time has passed
since our feet touched this sacred sand
and light breezes will move us
forward on treasure hunts
as we sink in the depths
we reach for the pretty bits
and the watchers sit wary
in their watery chamber
buying time they too search
for a respite from the death
that knocks on the door,
helpless we drift away
and return to the safety
of solid land
waiting for the day
blue green seas renew and become
their glistening selves once more.
There are no answers
and the dream slips through our fingers
into the desperate depths
we wake to sleep
to create once more
a new vision
and a dream set free to fly on.

Hubby and I went to our beach yesterday for the first time in a very long time. The air quality was good but the water was brown tinted instead of its glorious blue green carribean quality. Dead crabs and some live ones lingered within a foot or so of shore, the live ones watching us and moving back and forth….it was sad to see and I keep saying prayers that this red tide will break up and return our beautiful water and inhabitants to its former self. Back to work today and waiting for cooler temps….the nineties have lingered long enough too๐Ÿ˜Š๐ŸŒดโ˜€๏ธ๐ŸŸ๐Ÿ ๐Ÿ’ฆ peace and blessings, K