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Dreamwalk
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Softly, I’m borne away on quiet, muffled wings
Of a beautiful butterfly which only I am privileged to see.
Gorgeous multicolored wings gracefully lift me like a feather,
Bringing my spirit to that very special sanctuary
Which is filled with rainbows, solitude and, of course, dreams.
Here in this special place,
My imagination paints only with soft colors.
Each tree, shrub, vine or plant produces fruits
And flowers in the seasons of my dreams.
Birds of every species and color grace tree and shrub.
They dart here and there, affording hours of pleasure to the eye.
The soft, sweet music of their song carried on the fragrant air
Brings solace to the inner soul.
The heart is light, dancing from sheer exuberance!
Here in my special place, fish bite when fished for,
And grain or fruit grows in abundance when seeds are planted.
Rushing or hurry are strictly forbidden,
And time stands still on command.
Dreams occur in Technicolor, and fantasies are commonplace.
My unfettered imagination is in complete control,
Able to travel into open and distant space instantly.
In my mind, I can visit any continent, country, city or place
At a snap of my fingers.
Here, any desire can achieve satisfaction
As soon as it’s realized and identified,
Without worry, pain or regret.
Should none of my earthly desires satisfy,
Then my inner spirit can be nourished
Through simple, quiet, relaxing thought patterns.
Peaceful, serenity reigns in assurance that all is well
And under complete control of my consciousness.
Choice
This thought is from Autumn Leaves:
I would rather be a poor man,
Rich in heart,
Than a rich man,
Poor in heart.
When Love Dies
This poem is from Autumn Leaves:
Words spoken in anger,
Forever enshrined.
Feelings mixed and scattered,
Emotions entwined.
Feelings torn asunder.
Thoughts agitated, grieved.
Words like darts, festering wounds,
Through time unrelieved.
No peace of heart,
Corrosive, eroded…
Flame burned out,
Tranquillity exploded.
Grapes dry out,
Dying on the vine.
Clouds blot the sun,
Pain heals with time.
Beauty of the rose
Fades away and dries,
Like love when it withers,
Is tortured, and dies.
Controlled Strings
This thought comes from Autumn Leaves:
Life, like a marionette,
One breath, one step, one day at a time,
Dancing to monotonous music, but—
Who controls the lines?
Prime Time
This poem is from Autumn Leaves:
Does watching a clear, fast mountain stream
While inhaling sweet, spruce-laden air
Or enjoying quiet serenity of beautiful aspens,
Gazing up at rough-cut grandeur of towering mountains
Cast a therapeutic spell?
The answer is freely available to anyone
Willing to venture out and sample
This boundless treasure.
Worries flow away merrily with the water’s rush.
Troubles vanish like smoke
In the crisp, cool air
Which teases the mountaintops.
Thoughts are free to wander aimlessly
While consuming enormous quantities
Of rich subject matter.
An all-elusive peace enters the dark,
Twisted inner recesses of the subconscious,
Bringing with it freshness and light.
Wild creatures scurry and flit about unconcerned,
As nature spins and weaves,
Displaying her enchanted magic.
An unspeakable sense of joy and well-being prevails,
Engulfing mere mortals,
Sealing the lips to silence,
For to speak might shatter the beautiful, fragile spell.