Peace of the Eternal Dream

Dedicated to my lovely aunt, Saundra Sitto, whose dreams are her eternal source of love and hope.

 

~ Peace of the Eternal Dream ~

  

Upon my finger, glittered a small crest,

Of a wanton bird that left its nettle,

As I slowly lay the crest down,

With a weary smile festered,

I caught my face glistening with tears-

 

It was as the grace of a minuscule glass shard,

And mesmerized I watched my reflection,

My tears becoming the replica,

Of a chalice that I’d once used,

A long time ago,

To drink from with a glowing lust.

 

The bird had flown to another land,

And all I now saw there was the eye of a man,

The very same that had lain the crest down-

Into my open palm,

Underneath the chrysanthemum and the mimosa,

One fine, silvery summer night,

Silken and sweet, as a rose petal that brought me . . .

Into another of life’s chapters,

And I felt his hair gently brush me,

Against my chivalrous, pink-tinged face,

And my hands tingling with night’s fervor,

While we sat upon our porch one night musing,

Over all of our dreams and our conjectures.

 

And he pulled me close into his chest,

And whispered to me in a melodic cadence,

That I was his one true love,

Even though we had married thrice.

 

And he caught and he twirled my slim figure,

Thus admiring my beautiful dress-

Which dazzled and glowed beneath the moonlight,

And I took up my fine crystal glass and sipped from it,

And then I leaned in for a kiss . . .

 

‘Our chief’ was his denoted label,

And I knew that it would stick forever . . .

But he truly did not give me any sort of,

Hope for anything except dreaming.

 

Years later,

I tenderly wiped the tear away,

And glanced back at my elegant broach.

 

I could not help but to wonder today,

Why I was under the impression,

That we’d ever put the polish finish on our dreams

 

But the fact now testified that,

The tiny dove no longer sat upon its perch,

And there were only his dark eyes,

And the glittering chalice from our past.

 

Perhaps we took understanding with us,

Because I can honestly think to myself that-

The dream was what we wanted finished,

And that because it was already started,

That was all that we needed.

 

Dreams are starters and fragments of human lust,

And passion is the crystal chalice of life’s need and trail,

And if we were satisfied and living life serenely,

Perhaps there would be no need to seek out,

What love and hope will in essence thrive from,

That always insatiable need for something more refined.

 

So I must think now of that summer’s night,

And kiss away all of the pain that came after.

 

My tears now linger as glass chalices do,

And my jewelry,

Is as fine to me as the one who gave it.

 

I may never be the target,

Of those lost dreams which we had set for ourselves,

But I understand how they were created now,

And I must live from that initial start,

Now, and probably for eternity . . .

 

Because what is a dream that has an end?

An accomplishment, no longer a mission.

 

How could I possibly envision for myself,

What has already been done?

We never really wanted to complete anything I imagine,

And I must know, really and truly comprehend,

That none of those dreams are forgotten.

 

Just like the glittering fruit of that drink,

Until we rested side by side in on the porch swing,

And he opened the box,

With the miraculous broach in it-

So I must forever and for eternity be,

My own drink that swims through the night air,

In the heart of our many hearts,

Thriving from the dream that we ourselves crafted,

And open my eyes, closing over my tears,

For what-

Is a dream but a bond of love?

Created from sheer mystery I think,

And never meaning to be . . .

 The term we call ‘accomplishment.’

Reviews

[zainul]

This is a great poem of love that elaborately expressed beautiful things and experiences of life.
This is really impossible to write a concise review.
So,I like to to congratulate you for the lovely work at this moment to avoid wasting of any more time.

[Foxemerald]

You are too kind in your elaboration of the viewpoint that you took. I appreciate the fact that you took the time to read this, and that you connected to it strongly enough to write out your thoughts. This is a clean, sparkling sentiment that brings the writer back to her original point in question. Thank you so much.

[zainul]

I feel honored dear poet.
This is a great pleasure for me.
Thanks for the superb piece of epic features.

[Soul Fire]

very.beautifully written. I like it

[Foxemerald]

I am sorry for my tardiness, but I thought that I had already responded- thank you!!

[Soul Fire]

no problem,you're very welcome

[Foxemerald]

You saw life through the tiniest things dear Brooke. I felt here you are so rich, living and alive...
each piece of your quill spreads me over lands, and nature, to live there for a moment. (I felt at home).
It's rarely happening. There is truth in your poem, again these wonderful ancient aspects of romance, humor, in a several lines, and the touch of purity, with little. It almost made me cry, so beautiful.

You discribe the path of life, in good and bad, with all the facets, into this piece, so well woven, so deep, there we can recognize the void visions, of once such a beautiful time... colored visions, that are painted on our memories. It seems you are to achieve the wedding day in quadriplicate ... over your verses, for remembering it in the mind and time again, to feel, to ensure the unique beauty of timeless moments, when life gets older.... FANTASTIC! *I'm smiling you're a hell of a poet my dear*

- Elisa

[Foxemerald]

I am so sorry that I was unable to answer your review sooner, Elisa. If any platitude ever holds true, it is that the best is always saved for the last. Your response to this poem is like a finely-squeezed wine from a grape vinyl, one that nourishes my poetic fire with its original intention. Your interpretation of this makes my heart glow, and is the providence of that thought which bleeds onto my page. This perspective bestows upon me the gift of what poetry means, its living process, and nourish that which we forget, that ideas bring us back into. This poem was about the love that connects us with the fragmented shards that compose our past, and revealing to us the treasures that we so long left behind us. Nothing that we love ever really leaves, even if it is buried deeply within the trenches of a dark hole, back in our mind's merciless barrier.

I feel as though I attempted to invigorate the meaning of life by placing it into words, or rather, its timeless quality. There is a piece of something that lives inside, that we always come close to touching . . . and then lose whatever it was, and let it slip quietly away again. But, in truth, our experiences always come out again, and they remind us who we were born to be. Really, an eternal facet lives in every one of us, which is wholly and completely separate from outward appearances . . . thank you so much for reading, Elisa. Your words are forever treasured.

No worries, Brooke, this was so fantastic. That's why I saved it, because in moments, I need to come back to read it again and again, and I will. I'm no superficial reader, I do love to feel every embracement, meaning and color of a write. And what you just said and wrote into your high sketched answer, I will take with me either, because you're so wise, and you know the essence of real poetry. Many thanks, and can't wait to have some time to read more, I save my best poets also for last. You're one of them... :) Enjoyed your work inside out! :)

[Foxemerald]

I appreciate your words so much, and the visions that you paint up crest over the flow of my thoughts. Your own poetry is so musical and is constructed from the innermost fabric of the true heart. I think there is a human interest piece always at work between poets, and the sharing and exchange we have is a unique gem. In the same fashion as yourself, I book your work to read over again. Your reviews are a constant source of light and inspiration for me, in spite the brief time of our relationship.

I will be traveling in London for a couple of weeks, but I will do my best to drop in as often as I can. The best always gets saved, but perhaps you will now be moved upwards.

In the meantime, continue to nurture your poetic talent. I’ll look forward
to talking with you soon =)

Brooke ~

I do yours too.... I will read your mail, I'm on the run right now, but I will wish you a good trip, with much inspiration, and we keep in touch sweet Brooke. I look forward to it. Much love, Elisa

[Foxemerald]

To you too, dear Elisa. I will message soon.

Take many picturess my friend, have the most lovely inspiration, I will wave from across the sea :D until then...

[Foxemerald]

Of course I will, and write many peoms to compensate for any major gaps in my read work. Never fear =)

[Zahra]

This is a really strong poem, very nicely penned

[Foxemerald]

Thank you. I am so glad that you appreciated the poem's sentiments.