As the weaver of dreams soaks her expression in light
The winds whisper slumbers blissful all throughout the night.
I awoke this morn to a Blue Bird fluttering frantically upon my bedstead.
I awoke this morn to a golden dawn, now its gone to my head.
There are no clouds to obscure the horizon, as I watch,
Absorbed within the tendencies of the voyeur. Flower. Empower.
Shower me in the grace of Unity. I beg of thee,
Set me free from my bondage to this realm.
I feel as lead, un-real, half dead, feeling anxious at the helm.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love the last line. It really lingers.