Monday, February 12, 2007
The air is full of aromas, the wind bringing me the orient. Spicey flavour wrapped in reds and oranges. The leaves of the trees making music in the night. I try to concentrate, but all my dreams of the past manage to find the road that leads to the present. I surrender-why not? The reality is not appealing. So, I fly with the wind through the open door. The pyramids seem to rest in fluid gold but the vision doesn't last. A castle rests in the mist and I can feel the watery cloak that surrounds me. A river breaks through, the misty castle vanishing. A forest emerges and birds of infinite colors cross the sky. The river then ends abruptly into the sea, islands surfacing like dots on fabric. The sea freezes and the world turns white like memories before birth. I know this will never end if I don't want it to, but dreams can't warm me up in the winter, nor give me flowers in the spring. More than that, dreams can't kiss me with passion under the summer moon and will never give me a strong shoulder to support me during a fall. The dreams don't have strong and warm hands to brush my tears and will never understand what makes me laugh. I return.