The Dream Poem by Jonathan Howard

PART ONE

‘Twas down the street one gloomy night,
A lovely chill of air;
When near my eyes I saw some sight,
Right then I was aware.

A seabird swooped (I can’t deny)
Above my head (so fair!) ,
And as I gazed right through the sky,
Astonished I was there.

I stared up into holy bounds;
Their gates were opened [high]:
A land of havens, safe and sound,
Tucked just behind the sky.

Just out of holy scripts and books,
A scene so fresh and clear;
I could not shake off it my looks,
And thought: “It’s near – it’s here.”

Before my eyes lay an array
Of clouds blue and maroon,
And through that bright night shot a ray,
Right from the hidden moon.

And those deep clouds of darkened tones,
Were dark as night could be;
Like silhoüettes of heavy drones
Cast down upon the quay.

Out of a grand gap through the clouds,
The white light boldly shone;
Just spinning skies’-stuff and fog-shrouds,
Thus forming Luna’s throne.

As in the Dream, that lovely beam,
Revived grey, grim, with lime;
And staring at that vivid stream
Of light – moved me in time.

PART TWO

A dream I saw, so pure and raw,
A holy, reäl truth;
And Spirits holy [Wow! ] I saw,
My soul itself was soothed.

Napoleön and Cassiüs,
Old kings and senators,
Mark Antony and Juliüs,
And many professors,

So many dignifi ed, bold men
I viewed with shocked-out eyes.
And what I noticed oh, right then:
I’d travelled through the skies!

As if I were a lightning bolt,
I shot the Heavens through;
So quick and rapid with no halt,
I sensed that sky of blue.

The clouds had all just vanished then,
As I rose very high;
I could not see nor house nor men,
Whilst thinking: ‘My, oh my! ’

I slowed down to a virtual halt,
Views round me were so nice,
And then I felt a sudden jolt:
The gates of Paradise.

(Since when a man like me, a colt,
Would be so terrifi ed
That seeïng such – I’d feel a jolt,
And bashfully just hide?

And I could not just yet stay still,
I cannot choose but glide;
Although reluctant with no will,
I went through, hadn’t cried!)

PART THREE

The trumpet sounded bright and sharp,
Why holy, Abe there too!
He said to me, playing-on a harp:
“For thee We sent, come through! ”

I travelled through those gates of gold,
Along paths of great stone,
And even though I was not cold –
I shivered by His throne.

I met Lord God, for me He sent
With His almighty sword,
“Why Thou! Just and omnipotent
All-right and honoured Lord!

What dost Thou seek in humble me,
O, greatest of all gods?
For I am no one; O, prythee,
Attack me not with swords! ”

But Mighty God said plainly nought,
To me He spoke with mind;
I then inferred all that He thought,
Nor tranquil nor most kind.

“My land is no more holy ground,
It is a land of beast.
Ruled not by man as much as hound,
The hound of very least.

What man back in the past hath been
Is just a memory;
Divine can be no longer seen
As much as arbitrary.

Unless man reconstructs his trust,
And Me he lov’th again,
A plague upon the land I must
Unleash to ruin men.

‘Tis solely thine, thy only task,
To reconstruct My name;
‘Twill be perfect, do not ask!
For thou shalt have much fame.”

“Yet what was that I saw back then
Whilst shooting through the clouds,
Those famous and most noble men,
That drifted through fog-shrouds:

Napoleön and Cassiüs,
Old kings and senators,
Marc Antony and Juliüs,
And many professors,

Why have I seen those men of charm,
Of great and gracious deeds,
Those men who often caused most harm
In tidén of most need? ”

PART FOUR

Yet Lord God did not answer me,
In silence He remained,
He shot me off in tyranny,
And I myself refrained.

And then, I traced along the line
Of time, without a grip;
I felt no passage of fi ne time:
An end came to my trip.

The clouds rushed to obscure the gates,
The moonlit beams turned dim;
My face so swiftly lost its grace,
And joyful awe turned grim.

And as the gates shrunk, undersized,
The moonlight shaped a cone.
Moreover, I have realised:
The noble men were gone.

Napoleön was there no more,
And Cassiüs went just the same;
Old kings by now were not my lore,
And I would lose my holy fame!

The senators and Antony,
Have vanished momentarily;
All professors and Julií
Were losing form, so suddenly!

PART FIVE

The inspiration and the muse
Had left my corpse alone,
I’ve striven hard just not to lose,
Yet I was left to moan.

I now have neither inspiration,
Nor divine-most mood,
None of that vital information,
He thought I was crude!

Down melancholy streets at night,
I walk so grey and dull;
Most distant and remote, that’s right,
Affection is now null.

That dream had come to me just once,
I lost my ecstasy;
Yet once a while I sense the trance,
The bliss, the rhapsody.

(September 2004.)