Under southern summer stars
she dreams at night
of northern winds
sighing in the sycamore,
whispering of kisses.
The rain on rooftops
hisses.
A shadow falls across her bed
and fills her head with tender words,
unheard again,
unspoken yet,
until the morning comes.
when you wake from a dream
into which you had drifted
if you sleep again quickly
you can dream it again
but it’s never the same
the scenery’s shifted, it’s not as it seemed
where there were roses, there’s only a shadow
the windows are dimmed, the doors won’t open
the music that played changed key long ago
the dream that you dreamed
has floated away
i made a long journey
like many before me
i had my fair share
of incidents, mishaps
some were of my own making,
others were simply there,
awaiting the unwary traveller
i learned much of the woods
how to read all the signs
and hear the approach
of the seekers of prey
i had little respect
for robbers and bandits
i had seen all their kind before
i held no vendetta against them
i dislike them neither more, nor less, now
than i did when i took to the road
i had made my own problems too
i wished to be left alone
sometimes yearning for home
it’s true
woods seem full of shadows
but darkness contrasts the light
and lets in the brightness of day
where is gleams through the branches
making clearer the safer way
i came to a clearing and rested
enjoying the peace,
listening to leaves sigh high on a breeze
above in the trees that whispered
if only i could stay
resting here forever
i looked at the paths leading on
it was a beautiful day
i felt some sense of completion
a sharp snap and an echo
the silence was gone
the sound of movement,
coming towards me,
secretly, fast
i felt a moment of panic
caught unaware
as they gathered around
to circle and slay me at last
calming my mind
i looked at the paths
the choices were many
which one should it be
i heard a signal
the voice of a raven
he stood in the sunlight
on a broad ancient branch of a tree
lit against shadow
by a path i instantly knew
it was as i had always imagined
well lit and wide open
it shone out beckoning me
nothing to fear any more
my weariness melted away
i saw i was home
this open wide path
lead straight to the door
where my soul awaited within
thoughts of Peter Pan
his shadow shut inside a drawer
poor fellow, incomplete
no old companion at his feet
and what if all the shadows went
not just your own
imagine a wooded glade
no contrasts there at all
sun shafts and no shade
no place to hide alone
in sweet repose and rest
and in a darkened room by firelight
no shadows dancing on the wall
by shadows we are blessed
where would imagination go
with no escape from endless bright
and crystal clear illumination
I recall a walk long ago
at full moon with my love
as my shadow played with hers
crossing and blending in our path
I wondered if my shadow
was as happy then as I
a childhood friend to play with
my shadow made me think
and wonder at the world
it’s a link to see ourselves
it shrinks and stretches, grows,
depending where we go
my shadow makes me
more aware of light
it connects me to the ground
when the sun is bright
I never see it in my dreams
I wonder what that means
leaving me to sleep
it disappears at night
I wonder where it goes
no-one knows that truth
I only know that when I die
my shadow wont exist
nor me, not I
perhaps we vanish into light
The Dreaming Path 