Deep into dream’s light, it seemed an aqua-blue-sea-green flight…
Pastel moseque greens, exotic majesty of wonderment, of the night
I floated aimlessly, unknowningly, then questioning a warrior guy...
Mystially alluring, consoling, and endearingly he seemed to fly
Still I had to ask “where does your garden grow? ” He shook his head.
I pointed to the throne, in the midst of the sea, as my heart was gently led.
How long have you lived in these pastel waters, of victory over the dreaded beast?
I knew by his question, I’d been dead so long to the world, I needed a new release.
Thus, when I awoke to reality’s dream, I found “a transfigured new” I’d become-!
Strange that a question can brings such change, when it comes from a Father’s son.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem