Tuesday, April 7, 2009



The dream isn’t really a dream
(Call up Chief Joseph and ask him)
Even though giant gentle elephants may float above
Or clouds laugh as children on the playground
In that place I look for my hands and find them
Watch penny whistle tweets shooting out the ends my fingers
Walk through walls and vault through closed windows
Talk to strangers from other realms
Find my self by losing it

The essence of who we are
Does not rot with this bodies end
The knowing of this moves us to use it
As a delicate instrument capable of fantastic feats
Sets us free to overcome our fear
Observe every present passing moment
With keen attention
With joy
And stop walking asleep


JM said...

Ok, I'll try to stop sleep walking although I must say, sometimes it is easier. ;) I may get exhausted if I try to observe every present passing moment. Couldn't I just pick my moments wisely instead? :)

BoneyBee said...

Mike: I love your words! This is a beautiful site and very inspiring to me, word and music artist that I am. Keep up the great work!
I'm looking forward to seeing your book in the flesh, so to speak. It is like a child, in a way, the creations we make from ourselves.

Bonnie B