Poetry

steven cooke


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22 march 2013

What Dreams May come

To walk in dreams
upon this vale of illusion.
Each footstep of your being
crossing the labyrinth
of a shy but guilty soul.
 
Sleep can be your witness
As Galaxies collide creating life
for we all belong to infinity.
That place beyond our imagination
where the darkness hides
a beauty not meant for human eyes.
 
Reality is the myth
for you now walk with gods.
This world is a reflection of you
where water and mirror are one.
The shimmer of a distorted face
lies on the see saw of humanity.
 
The light you inherit
the darkness you manufacture.
But in death at least
your priest will lie for you.
 
Life is but a feather
It glides through the winds of time.
Sometimes rising to your endeavour
more often it is a passenger
 falling on a broken wing.
 
But no matter
your feather is immortal.
For it caresses the meanings
of such wonderful things
and you beat the odds to be you.
 
Morning brings a pencilled rubber
the mind will leave this page.
and somewhere in the universe
another being will dream,
of things beyond this human race.
 
 
 






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