Monday, April 8, 2013

The next illusion

There is a house in my dreams
Deep, rich browns and faded reds
Blue porcelain tea cups and intricate carvings
A stately calmness infuses it all
From the curtains to the teacups
To the hangings on the wall

Somewhere, music is playing
Music from being fifteen,
Yet the way I remember fifteen
Is hardly how it happened at all.
I listen to the song --the relic--
As it fades into a similar, yet new song
Whose language I have yet to fully understand
But have taken on, accepted as mine.

A peace grows within me
Though nothing ever changes
Calm is forever the same
Its fragrance is intoxicating
Yet I am fully sober
Or am I aware at all?
Life is lived in the living
And stops in the moments
Of self-examination

And so in this life I live
This thread I follow
This web I weave
I wake up

To the house of my waking hours
Cream and mustard and faded greens
Sturdy coffee mugs and hand-sewn tapestries
Calmness in the fleeting moments where it is found
And in between that realized time
Dreams fade to mist
And the everyday struggle for peace
Continues until the next moment of introspection
The next moment of rest
The next illusion

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