Reality Becomes A Dream That Never Was
an inescapable truth which encompasses all lies you are,
by David Taylor
the single multitude of form that each and every snowflake hides,
the cold that makes such beauty from the absence of heat,
the heat that melts all frozen and becomes the gentle river of love
flowing at all creatures feet, and through, and through;
all we are, and all we meet, and all we do.
the perfection of each defect shines in your perfected face
as the sound of bells rung ages past fills our silent ears
and the taste of deep hunger fills all eyes with forgotten tears,
this body a boat, this mind a billowing sail, this wind your love;
what shore can be reached on the horizon of drifting stars,
that same shore on which we now stand, viewed from afar.
not this, not this, not any grain of sand that may be sifted,
nor any mountain that yearns to be climbed
nor the ocean of time ever lapping that present shore;
just the lingering fragrance of sandalwood
after the wind returns to heaven’s dark, unmoving, stillness,
and the stars bow low, so low, we hold them in our hands.