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| march 2007 |
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| In the Dreaming 7 | 1:39am saturday, 31st march |
In the dreaming, light lifted me into the realms of thought.
In the dreaming, an eternity of quiet ended as stars fell from heaven.
In the dreaming, I wrestled the darkness till dawn’s dispel.
In the dreaming, a tree with leaves of fire lit the dark forest.
In the dreaming, night and day shared the sky, sun amid the stars.
In the dreaming, I lived a life in an hour, but this as life is.
In the dreaming, a girl with sapphire eyes stirred the elixir of destiny.
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| On | 12:12am tuesday, 27th march |
Night has fallen where it might, and I am a dream away from eternal things. My desire for flight has made me struggle against gravity all this time; and it has borne fruit in the wings I have sought to create. I have skirted the edge of the impossible where I have travelled, not willing to see that I should fail for the farness of my reaching. Give thanks to God, o my soul, for He has set a fire in my heart that weathers the torrents of the storm, that keeps me pressing on when hope is at its thinnest. This is life: that one sees the magic in what the world can achieve, wonder at dreams of the primordial light and shine the light upon all that is, do his best at whatever comes. Always remember from where you have come. It has made you what you are.
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| Middle | 1:40am friday, 23rd march |
Sometimes I must say that I am tired of the dream, of the constant of dreaming. Of there being every moment suffused with meaning. I know I used not to live thus, that once, I desired only the opposite — to forget, to escape — and that was all there was, and that this is a blessing to have a world full of signficance; but there is something to be said about indulging the animal in you, if only for a little bit. It is to say that I grow a bit weary of being aware that I am aware. We are none of us wholly from above, like the angelic hosts in the halosphere, we are of middle earth: half from below, as well as the half of heaven. Or at least, this is as it feels like in me, who is no saint, and liable to fleshy desires. Let me think nothing, just for a moment. For I believe that even this moment I waste will not be wasted, but as ease, to let the potential build again.
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| i speak | 12:16am monday, 19th march |
i speak of love like a wind across the plain
like ashes of a dearly departed scattered upon the the earth
quiet in my brooding, to sound in joy
knowing nothing but with a promise in my heart
dreaming of possible things — this is courage
all of it rests upon the will of the believer, a calling is so
merely words carried through the mundane atmospheres
who will do what he can? this is courage
who will dare to love as it was intended of us?
not to call upon the furies, but to hold a hand
quiet in prayer that does not rely on a miracle
i speak of love like moonlight striking water
i believe. you need not ask in what, if you believe it, too
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| chase | 12:25am wednesday, 15th march |
i chase the dream into untenable places, i run
far into the depth, sure i know where it is that i go to
i light a fire and plant my flag, making a home where i am
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| Recurrence | 12:55am sunday, 11th march |
A recurring theme in my remaining paranoia has been that it is all too late, that my fate was sealed years ago, irrevocable, and all that remains for me to come is the damnation — no matter what I do in any present before me. Back when I lost my mind, in that period approaching July of 1991, I was having some bizarre trips. And I can clearly recall that there were figures therein that could be construed as Satan, or some sort of satanic entity. So, how the paranoia goes is that all the guidance that has come from that time on, all the angelic host that I have been in contact with — that it has all been the Devil, all along, teaching me how to best become the Antichrist, the Beast. And that all is lost, that the world is that cruel, and that all hope, at least for me, has only been wishful illusion.
Then, slowly, I come around to the realization that that makes no sense. The voices in my head that were angels: they have never told me to be anything but good. Not that I’m saying that they have any reality outside my mind’s eye, but the angels have been like angels, not devils. They have only sought to bring me out of the depths of my own evil, not send me into the darkness at all. The Jesus Christ cartoon has always ever been an image of what the true Lord would be like — not how I expected, much of the time, but which made sense that it was how the Lord of all creation should be. In other words, they were the good guys, and they made me believe that I could be one of the good guys too. The paranoia turns out, then, that it is only punishment for my sins, and I am relieved.
This is still happening at times, and perhaps will continue as I continue to sin. It is a silly thing, if one examines it, to think in terms of the paranoia. But it does not seem so silly when I am there within it. One supposes that you have to be there to see what I mean. And perhaps that, we all understand.
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| Thoughtlike | 12:04am wednesday, 7th march |
I am lost in dreaming for a time, thinking only in riddles.
Within me somewhere still is a rebellious heart, though quiet.
There is fire in me, some new, some that was before I was.
If we do not touch, a distance will grow with our neglect.
Finding purpose in life is merely to understand this: love.
Listen to others: you might just find yourself in their words.
I have withstood what I could, and I let the other things pass.
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| dipped | 2:10am saturday, 3rd march |
i have dreamed as if time were ending
dark in the summer heat
stars shooting, falling in a thousand streaks
or was it winter, cold daylight
stark cemetery trees silently reaching out;
i cannot imagine spring
being the callingtime of the apocalypse,
and autumn is too quiet
i instead see in my mind’s productions
fire or ice, not a whimper,
not a fading out of all these days and nights…
there are those among us
that will not allow the slow decay of light
and it may be you, if thinking
that caring is not a waste, after all, not
lingering too long on “why”
but finding “because” in parentheses waiting
for someone who saw it
dreaming in broad daylight, a hint, a clue
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