Exodus in slumber

In deepest dreams we move
between the worlds of conscious thought,
slipping between the spaces
where the light filters in.
We deftly skim the surface,
aware of these images
that yesterday unearthed.
Exodus of self and soul
driven out to watch from afar
the restless imagination at work,
relentlessly throwing signs
some sticking to the banks on the side,
we surface grasping onto
the faintest edge of reason.
Faces from afar
come whispering their secrets
and we walk down cobbled roads
moving downward seeking shelter
in shaded alley ways,
the glimmer of water in view.
We stand watching
the words spoken
the smiles and frowns
everyday people
filling our thoughts,
as we watch helplessly
we try to gather the innocent,
sheltering from the storm
if only in dreams,
the awareness of the angels
watching over
the wistful dreaming
of a soul unbound.

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Images taken in Puerto Rico a few years back. Poetry based on my dream state last night, I felt as if I weren’t sleeping all night as I watched the dreams play themselves out, one after another and I was aware I was dreaming, mentally talking to myself about them and woke to find the fitbit telling me I slept eight and a half hours….hmmmmm…..

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