A Dream From My Self - Poem by Bernard Kennedy
Tiredness, like Morphia,
assists me, as I descend into that state,
where the narrative of self,
like on a cinema screen projected,
like a slow travelling train-
through luscious pastures, moves and views,
that handpicked by my soul, illustrate.
And you are there- a visitor of comfort,
to energize and liberate.
And your face, not Medusa but anti so.
Sometimes kiss and sometimes dance,
to always energize my soul.
Yes, I have seen your face before
and heard your laugh,
it's echo onwards-
creating the Sitz im leben
of my daily fluctuation.
Chased by my dream, until enwrapped,
to fly, as like a bird, free, or salmon,
up stream, without the undertow.
I do not chase the dream
But this dreamer is chased by his dream,
In this the royal road.
And then I awaken.
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