Sky Voyager

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In dream, I am time traveling, 

winging through the  cosmos, 

my body its own spacecraft, 

nothing between my Self and all the stars, 

bathing in their friendly light, 

riding the vortex, upward hurled, 

traveling through Forever, 

awesome Sky-world.

Cosmic beings,
giant creatures green and blue, 

beckon me to join them,
this journey all the proof, 

(I always knew), 

that we are One, speaking a tongue
that needs no words, 

in a universe where we all belong,

each of us a note

in the universal song.

Then, as I waken, 

eyes open and for sure no longer dreaming, 

I see a painted mask, First Nations warrior, 

his face alive, suspended there before me. 

He looks at me, behind his paint and feathers, 

Medicine Man, intensely kind and wise, 

and, strangely unafraid, I do not hide, 

but hold his shaman's glance, beguiling, 

as he looks deeply, deep into my eyes, 

and smiling.

As I woke from this dream, his face hung, suspended, in front of me for several seconds before he faded away. His glance was so reassuring. I was ill then and my world was falling apart. I took his message to be that everything would be all right and it was, eventually. I don't often remember my dreams, but I remember this one.

I re-worked an old poem for  Brendan at Real Toads