Dream Life

                                                                                  The sky is so tragically beautiful It is the graveyard of stars; It doesn't hurt but it leaves the scars, Not just on mind but the whole human soul Not just it control, but the heart that it stole. Maybe that's what life has to  give, But this should not stop you to relive! Cause without pain, How would you know joy; It builds you up and just believe, that it does not destroy. All you need to have is faith, Cause once it was said that life is 'fickle finger of fate', Believe in yourself because you yourself are your true mate.

                                                   This is what you shall do; Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest  fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every...

                                       Dreams are the only afterlife we know; the place where the children we were rock in the arms of the children we have become. They are as many as leaves in their migrations, as birds whose deaths we learn of by the single feather left behind: a clue, a particle of sleep caught in the eye. They are as irretrievable as sand when the sea creeps up its long knife glittering in its teeth to claim its patrimony. Sometimes my father in knickers and cap waits on that shore the dream of him a wound not even morning can heal. The dog's legs pump in his sleep; your closed eyelids flicker as the reel unwinds: watcher and watched, archer and bull's eye. Last night I dreamed a lover in my arms and woke innocent. The sky was starry to the very rind, his smile still burning there like the rail of comet that has just blazed by.

                                             What is love? The way the sun sets so that the moon can shine. The sea greeting the shore no matter how many time he is pushed away.  Leaves that blush at the sight of autumn. Dreams that show you the ways out of your maze. Our hearts together so that we may remember the tune. This is how love might feel for most people, but for me, love is simply you.