On The Edge
I AM FOREVER walking upon these shores, betwixt the sand and the foam, the high tide will erase my foot-prints, and the wind will blow away the foam. But the sea and the shore will remain forever.
- Khalil Gibran
What are my dreams? What do my dreams mean to you, my love?
Do you know your dreams are mine as well?
When you dream of walking through grassy fields
And you feel the warmth of the sun on your back,
Do you know it is my radiance upon you?
When you dream of twilight beaches
And stand so solidly in the pulsing waves,
Do you feel my hands rest upon your shoulders?
As you walk among the throngs of people
Who bring fear and anxiety to your sleeping mind,
Do you feel the wind lift you, my wings aiding your steps?
And when your mind wanders, chasing that elusive butterfly called Sleep,
Do you feel the comfort of my breast as I hold you close?
Do you know who I am, who keeps you company in our dreams?
Do you think of me when the dreams are gone?
These dreams are so frustratingly momentary,
A mark in the sand washed quickly away by the surf.
My powers are strong but limited to the world shaded from your vision.
Time is one and all, nothing and everything at once.
I am eager for the dreams, to greet you when you return,
To be more than merely a presence or feeling.
My wings unfold as I stretch my hands to cradle your face.
Your skin warms with my consecrated touch.
Your breath quickens… you breathe deeply
And the powdery essence from my wings falls over you,
A dusting scent of spring rain and wild flowers.
You begin to shake with nervousness,
Overwhelmed by my eternal love flooding your eyes.
I begin to sing my desire for you
But all you hear is a cold ringing in your ears.
My cries turn into shrieks and you pull away from me.
You are so frightened, I want to protect you.
You punch and kick and swing to break free from my enveloping wings.
And suddenly you are awake again,
My dream turning into your nightmare
And I am alone to grieve for my failure to be closer to you.
Oh heart, if one should say to you that the soul perishes like the body, answer that the flower withers, but the seed remains . - Khalil Gibran
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