the dream of the self has many rooms
it is a huge dwelling, an undertaking, a wide expansive canyon
where you cannot see from one end to another
the space is ever unfolding, sometimes caving in on itself
and in those times, you must sit tight at the center
expressing all you can get out of you, taking in nourishment
finding wisdom where before there was only exhaustion
finding truth where before there was only pretense
you might love this dream of self, you might
believe in it wholeheartedly
but the rapture that comes is complete as well
it consumes all of you and sends you back to
a sacred origin, to source energy, to purified intention.
you teach yourself in this dream, over and over
about impermanence, but it is only a concept until
you are folded back in on yourself
in order to make a new being, sorting out along the way
what is temporary and what is eternal, these questions pull at you
you are created and creator
you destroy and will be destroyed
your mortal dreaming has its power, its holiness
but as a mortal, you only see in a limited manner,
you only know and are known within the confines of your dreaming
and limitations but it is beautiful. it is terrifying.
I will be holding your hand, the whole time.
when we meet; we rise up,
swelling with deep recognition until we almost burst
giving thanks as humbly as we can
giving thanks for new solid ground on which to stand.
