The waking hour.
Dreams aplenty, coursing through this being that I am.
One by one revealing layers that interweave in wonder as the old that is new, is once again rediscovered, and so to uncovered.
From rides with dogs chasing tail, to parking in narrow spaces.
Brother sharing dreams of workplaces that inspire him to rise.
For myself, that is nice. Though, in my life, I seek more spice.
I know what’s going on here. I know what I feel.
To be alone with me, now that is a treat which feels real.
Though to reach this space of alone, first I must let go of the angels and demons that I hold.
Only then am I truly on my own. No longer needing to distract so that I continue to act.
Once they’ve all been released, then I sit here in peace.
For one does not need the other to be, unless one decides to continue this game in duality.
Now in bliss, life persists. A dance it is, one with all that exists.
Find the truth in the mirror, sometimes with a twist. This is part of infinities gift.
Oh, how we persist when all we want is right here, so very near.
Yet look to far and it all can be missed.
Again, it twists.
Persist not to hard, perhaps let it flow. This way water know how to go.
Sure is the way that the dancer must know, static in motion, let it all grow.
We are the weavers of fate. Destiny knows, awaiting for us to shape the way.
The path comes to be as we walk it in threes.