A Painting Of A Dream Poem by Fred Jack Amikoonsgiyamanitoumahwhingon Miles

While surrounded by darkness, so my eyes can not see,
My mind reaches out, past wood plaster and beams,
searching and searching for a wonderful dream.
My dream found that sight almost too spectacular to be.
It made me look up at what it had seen,
a kind of sky that then had seemed
far too ponderous, even for me.
The blue it bore was not pale with haze
but as spilled light ink wicks softly onto a page,
spreading it's blue across my brain
flowing off to some unconscious dream.
Foaming out like stalking braves
canoeing stealthily upon azure waves
were clouds of brilliant white
with contours of all the known shades of grey,
making them look three dimensional
as they eurythmically glided their graceful way.
I lowered my mind until there showed
a horizon that cut through this endless glow.
Because there appeared mountains of aged old past
with incisors all covered with brilliant white snow.
Jaws of the Ancients now moving no more,
making no sound save where incessant winds blow.
The cliffs below with their marbled faces
etched in the colours only nature could show
with light spots here and dark spots there
from the Sun above or Her clouds below.
As I glanced down, I saw the pines,
not just yet as individuals,
but swatches of dark emerald
splashed onto the slopes.
What's that I gleamed, between those two peaks?
A path, a road a river or steam?
So I looked even lower and saw it winding.
A beautiful river so blue and wide
reflecting sky and mountains high
and trees so green as to make pigments cry.
No sign of rapids met my gaze
'til I looked to the side of this rocky maze.
Then another stream did now engage,
as if out of the bowels of our Mother, the Earth.
The stream, though not so wide in girth, nor even quite so blue
had a torrent of thunder, so loud yet astute,
it stole from Thor's hammer, thus rendering it mute.
From rocky splits it carved and hewed,
then crashed from cliff to cliff,
while churning and rushing through,
Waterfalls of awesome size
showing white against those tortured sides.
A rainbow through every cloud of mist
splashing facets of jewels through the crystalline rifts
contrasted this raw lacerated shift.
No tree or rock stood in her way.
Like the finger of a giant, her path she made.
I looked further down and to my delight,
saw the crash of the two in the morning light.
The quiescent river from blue to colour
from all of the minerals that came from the other.
Hence where they met they changed their course
for a joined reunion from each separate source.
They surged and wandered and so they plod
to a place where my mind has yet to trod.
It then dawned on me, though shaking still,
that I was on top of a sloping hill.
The hill was rolling and spotted with trees
of birches and maples and evergreens.
Some granite stood here and quartz stood there,
but all the colors around me, they only but shared.
Green grasses and ferns swayed in the air,
and wild flowers, all species, were everywhere.
Lovely patterned wing butterflies fluttered about
and birds on the wing added song to my thoughts.
With the buzzing and droning of bees on their routes
came the whispering branches
with their leaves and their sprouts.
The mammals of course weren't missing from here.
A she wolf lay sunning with contentment and cheer.
Her coat partly white with a mottle of grays
contrasted so beautifully in this surrounding array.
Then abruptly, I rued, the dream had ceased
when all signs of the scene did violently leave.
While lying in darkness with nothing to see,
I realize now, one can always have dreams.