Asleep

A Poem by Dean

No lack of mystery
set off against a jaded lifetime.
This counterpart of death assumes a role
unlimited and ill-defined--
a soft, sustaining drift
into a new adventure;

here the great escape
into a world aside.
A staggering, insensate journal
just across the flow of time
reaching back through memory
to catch fragmented frames of youth
and layered years of searching.

Gratuitous, such primal energy
untested by exertion.
For this. the transient thought
could make a work of art
to transcend consciousness
with joyous irony.

What truths wil vanish every day
until they are confronted?
Dare one luxuriate, reflect, or die
unable to remember, or forget?
As basic as the call to sleep
is eschewed consciousness,
a torch so singular
as to command, to sublimate, to wait,
and lose the dazzling child of parallel
to faithless wings.

What license this!
To emptiness,
an alternate decay?
Or yet to scan the universe
estranged from lusts we know,
defining and enabling
a hidden power to scorn
the heart of truth.

New dreams will chase
the doubt of dreaming while
new visions of the self
will laugh and run away...
and as they disappear, shout
"Come with me!"
~

© 2013 Dean

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Reviews

Linda Marie Van Tassell

I have woken myself up, in the middle of a dream, in pure merriment, laughing within the dream and without. I have also woken from dreams, from which I did not want to depart, and immediately forced myslf to fall back to sleep, hoping to pick up the dream where I left off.

In younger years, my dreams were conscious efforts, for sleepbrought only nightmares. It wasn't until I recovered from years of circumstances beyong my control that I was able to finally sleep and dream dreams that comforted, brought joy, or peace.

There are dreams to rmember and dreams to forget, reminiscent of things you'd sooner forget in life.

I love your voice.