Dreamscape

Falling through starlight skies

Floating down lanes of clouds,

hearled by the birds

The ground slowly coming into view

Tops of mountains rising high

Cities like anthills lit up below

Noisy centers, peaceful corners

Landing with soft feet

In a field of sun-ripened wheat

The air is crisp

The wind whirls by,

voices follow in a sigh

The leaves swirl past

Brilliant in maple red, sunburst orange, and marigold

Walking down a gravel lane

The roadbeds lined with wildflowers

Some far past their prime

But the goldenrod stands tall

Resplendent in it’s autumnal gold

Contasted by the purple asters below

Red wine grape vines climb the poles

of the wood fence to the side

Each step brings you closer

to the town down below

Sadness passes over you

Walking away from the farm

Sandwiched between a pond and a forest

On the top of a hill

Where all is well

And days pass in a blur

Where the moon and stars are the only time-keepers

And the seasons dictate the day

Where the music is that of the birds

And the frogs and squirrels

Where art is everywhere-in a flower

And in a stone

Where the only obligations are appreciating nature

And creating what you can

Reality calls

The dream is ending

To the city you must return,

At least for a while more

Until you are freed again

to escaoe into the woods

For now though you work

And live and laugh and cry

In the town below

Where all is uncertain

And days pass in a blur

Where clocks and calendars are the time-keepers

And the minutes dictate the day

Where the music is that of synthetic sounds

And voices cry out loud

Where art can be seen in the museum

And from the street or in the house

Where the only obligations are everything

And you can never finish the list

The dream is ending The soft colored lights filtering through the trees

Turns into soft colored lights of the street lamps

As they fade away as dawn begins

Filtering through your paint-chipped window

Reality washes over you

Time to get up

Time to go to work, to school

To get things done

To check off those tasks

To meet all your marks

To try to run on this treadmill built by society

But there’s a prize at the end-

of what you may ask? All the things they tell you is true

Wrapped up in a pretty red package

Tied in a string

Tied to you and all of your obligations

Stress and worry are secondary

When all you need to do is get to the end

But how can you do that-

you may ask?

When the treadmill never stops

And the speed only increases

The difficulty only increases

And the strings start to choke

What can you do then? You can keep running endlessly

Or you can stop

You can step off the treadmill

And make your own path

Sometimes that path may overlap

With those of others

Sometime that path may be paved and easy to walk

Or laid out before you like a red carpet

Other times the path may be rocky

It may be treacherous

There will be hills and valleys

It will rain and it will shine

Flowers may grow on the sides,

more easily if you sow the seeds

and shower them with love

You may take a wrong turn

You may get lost and confused

You may stumble and fall

But in the end all rivers meet the sea

And you will get to where you need to go

As long as the path is your own.