To See a Dream

A poem/extremely short story I spent about 20 minutes writing. I needed to write something or I felt that I would fall apart.

I dream of a home, somewhere not too far off. It rests in a valley, and a river flows in and out. I hear the wind blowing all throughout, the water trickling about.

Everything is calm, for calm is all there is. Light shines through the trees, bouncing with joy on the dew and skipping with ecstasy on the water of the river.

There are no problems, for problems are not a problem. The land smiles with its many blades of grass and its many hills, a wonderful sight that remains unseen.

Mysteries cannot exist, for everything is known, and none are aware. Consciousness is sleeping, resting its eyes and slowing its heart.

This home is made of no wood or stone, no metal or concrete. It grows of the trees, from the roots, beyond reality. Something I cannot see clearly, its window’s blurred views.

Light colors, soft voices, granted dreams, wandering souls, sleeping gods, all are asleep, and that is as it is how it should be.

Everything is real, for fake things don’t exist. Darkness flows alongside light, partners in reality, and everyone is tired. To close an eye, to rest a thought, to live a dream.