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    This Existing Dream

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    This is a place where
    When like water freezes
    We are captured in time and space as
    A frozen droplet of dew.

    Please, love, hold my hand,
    Each individual suspended
    In a pale blue landscape
    Where time is a slow, erotic
    Beating of wings
    Scattering feathers in all directions.

    And take me far away;
    Dancing a slow rhythm
    In perfect harmony
    With the metronome heartbeat
    Inside each our fragile minds,
    A soul defined by where it has roamed
    And Who it would call its kind.

    The faint traces in the sand
    Sat atop the wick
    Of burning candle wax
    Our soul's blue flame
    That burns forever
    Or till time stands still again.

    To my mind display
    Then to jump, to dance away
    To be lit once more on another day
    Behind some other, different door
    On another, distant shore;

    A most grotesque paradox
    Fierce desire
    To simply exist
    On this plane or the next
    Is what drives our souls
    To persist
    In this dream
    Of white trees and red poppies
    And breath on wind and rain;

    Of life and death; Of night and day
    What drives us from one flesh to flesh
    Is the desire to ascertain
    What is perhaps and has always been
    Moving fast away to another dream
    On another plane.

    Please, love, take my hand
    Mere existence:
    To live and breath through flesh and blood
    And see with eyes unclouded by dust
    From the wings of vulchers that hang
    Over the realm of the dead
    And search with an unquenchable lust
    For any sigh of a flickering flame
    Ignited by a living soul
    In this existing dream.

    The flesh is falling off
    This existing dream within
    Our hearts mind of minds:
    Where great white oaks grow from hills
    Covered in gray stalks and stems
    And petals filled like blood colored gems

    I'm oh so frightened now, love,
    Where all fluids flow
    In a stream of alchemical trust
    To sweep up all the vulchers dust
    And slowly turn it into rust
    For all the rest of us to see...

    Just sing to me soft...
    And, so to see,
    We understand
    Why we walk, hand-in-hand,
    On a path that leads to no-man's-land
    Where we might be free
    From this existing dream.



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