The Dream Poem by James McLain

I sleep full and it is still great the will,
fast approaching comes the dream
to pull the vast golden day
from it's memory of your remembered night....
) Air..........moving....in and out...
heavy sinking and lite above and white
as the mist of stacked spires...
domes bubble up from the sound
fired in sulfurous mist...
my sea once a mighty ocean
quiescent as a yellow seal,
sleeping upon that rock,
waves watching over 'the pup...
and the emerging sun
spurting up and out from the gold
over one world, smoke-pale, rising out of the red clay....(
But the day is an, up-turned face
and its sun a mind, mined hard multi faceted
made from yours a diamond
shinning from space-looking down
and light comes now as water-
upon whom, shall he pour this, your dream?