THE DREAMER’S WORLD

The dreamers eye looks at the world and sees instead visions in the mind

And when in passing something significant changes in what was left unnoticed

The mind brings it to attention pulling as though from a reverie the perception

Of that which is entirely real and tangible and instantly, very perceptibly

Regret enters the chain of thought at having missed the process that was

To bring about something that was very visible change and the past had been over

In the very moment the thoughts had chosen to wander beyond what is visible

And then a resolve appears to stay attentive to what is actually around

And the eye observes, seeks and looks and then finds that voluminous swathes exist

Without any beauty and unending swells of monotony and no place

No room, in fact, in the crowdedness of the present and actionable

For Imagination to take root and grow as a creation or something born anew

And the eye stops again, glazing over and leaving this realm

To see what is perceptible, palatable and full of possibility even if it is false

And hundreds live in this realm of present escape to get away from what they

Know must be or the decisions that they will not take within the choices that exist

Living in dreams within dreams and there, within all that convolutedness

Lies the root of creativity, lying dormant to be found, cajoled and woken

From slumber like a sunrise after six months of dark deep night

And they find that what they dreamt of can sometimes really be

The eyes envision ways of interpretation, creation and expression

Art becomes apparent in single and multidimensional representations

And it returns to that very world it had wished it had not missed the past of

And makes its present the past again because it is always the dreamers who emerge

Eventually to create what exists in reality, what is perceptible in the daylight

And build in their sightless sleepless worlds their own versions of dawn

That all of us can be a part of, share together and dream in solidarity

Of all the pasts we must make and nights awoken from long slumber to light

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