Dreaming Awake
I close my eyes, but do not sleep;
I cross the threshold, strange and deep.
The silent dark begins to gleam,
And somewhere in it waits a dream.
I wander where the midnight bends,
Through roads that have no signs or ends;
And sometimes there, beneath that sky,
I find another dreaming eye.
Perhaps we meet beyond the veil,
Where distance loses all its scale;
No map, no clock, no earthly chart
Can tell how one dream finds its heart.
What if the dream is not our own,
But something neither made alone;
A meeting place, a space between
What is, and what has never been.
And then I learn the dream can change
When I decide to rearrange
The stars, the doors, the paths I see -
As though the world turns for me.
Maybe the mind is more than sight,
More than a witness to the night;
Perhaps what first began as thought
Becomes the truth we always sought.
Could the worlds we learn to see
Be shaped by what we choose to be?
Perhaps the line we draw as true
Is altered with our shifting view.
So when I wake, I do not know
Which parts were seeds I chose to sow;
For waking life begins to seem
Less than lucid, more a dream.
And if the waking world can bend
By choice, by chance, by truth we tend,
Perhaps the dream was never meant
As fantasy, or accident.
I learned to look, and learned to see
How much of life belongs to me;
How much is given, how much made,
How much is chosen, changed, or claimed.
I close my eyes, but do not sleep;
Some dreams are promises we keep.
And somewhere between night and day,
I've resolved to dream awake.
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Dreaming Awake
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