Dreams Out Of The Blue

Blue acedia creates a deep longing
a longing to see, a longing to be,
In a completely different light
as distinct as day from night,
as blue from black,
a way to perceive life's dreams
that has no need to ever gaze back.
The purest view
only found in 'all things made new'.

I stand alone in the vast wide open
Underneath the most beautific blue sky.......
At a crossroad of dirt lane and iron track
Keenly I watch as a slow moving train creeps by,
I on the warm earth trail
It on a cold steel rail,
I with vision to view all that is alive
It with a single blind iron eye,
I at liberty to move anywhere about,
It forever attached to a mundane, routine route.......
It moves abjectly, like a corpse thrown in a rill,
I follow the song of my soul, the pace of my own free will.

- There seems a deep necessity out here,
The need of empty places,
To lose the blues, and find grace abundant
In gifts, glimpses and traces -

I dream I am inside my mind.
I stand here alone,
Feeling the wind of deep thought
All around me forever blown;
It is an endless, treeless praire-
A deep blue sky
Flows illusory about me.
From very far above
Radiant sunlight pours down a glorious glow,
Giving golden grass reason to dance
In giddy gladness below.
Immobile, and silent, I observe -with utter awareness-
Extrordinary ideas like tumbleweeds in a whirlwind whisping by;
They leave indiscriminate flashes of fire
To burn ontic holes in my encumbered sky.
I try to grasp them,
But to no avail.......
For so soon they've flown
Leaving no clue, and no trail.
In my mind I wait and wonder:
-what is their purpose
-where do they go
-what do they understand
... that I yet do not know?
In this dream,
so smooth and silent,
Could it be to me, they attempt to impart:
'Come follow us, to the way of the Infinite.'?

Diurnal life seems
To endlessly spin,
In hopeless, orderly circles that forever, routinely repeat
The same sad situations again and again and again.

Therefore I must ponder
Upon the cause and purpose of my dreams,
What they are
And what they seem,
Those that are foes
And those that are friends,
Those of the night
And those that never end.
These unifying mystical experiences
That awaken daily possibilities to seek
The Extraordinary, so present in the ordinary,
And the Magnificent mingling with the meek.
This depth of great Beauty
Becomes the necessity to view,
A clear-burning vision shinning brightly into each new day
Through the routine, melancholy blue.

Dreams -
These mystical metaphors
That fall like sunlight poured upon human history,
Require close attention
To render the great and surreptitious Mystery.
If what true dreams concern and celestial visions do discern
Are indeed some heavenly sign,
What they must signify then
Is the grace of God drawing a line......
Connecting us to Him.
A bright and beautiful path,
As a gift given;
So different, so new,
Comes bursting with surprise
Into our narrow little skies of torporific blue;
Stretching into earth from heaven.
First to be seen in dreams as true,
Where originate the colors
Of man's greatest possibility to view.

Those dreams, so distant, that seem to come
From out of the blue,
May be given from afar - to draw us near.......
To all that is ultimately true.

by Smoky Hoss

Comments (1)

Absolutely breathtaking in it's scope, wonderful poem Smokey.