Monday, June 18, 2018

Wild Flowers Imagine the Rain


While on
his journey,
a young man asks
how he should live.

A wise man replies,
live life the dream
not as dreamer,
but the dreamed.

Then he dies,
and from
the mountain
his spirit departs.

Comes the wind,
the rain, the snow,
the granite’s
ancient lust for stars.

Sings yearning
like an arrow
on its pathway
to the heart.

Upon the slope,
sunlight’s riddle
of sweetly
marrowed bones.

A field ripens
down below,
abundant grain
for empty palms.

Songs and Letters, February 6, 2006



5 comments:

Stream Source said...

A wise man replies,
live life the dream
not as dreamer,
but the dreamed.

William Michaelian said...

Interesting. The echoes are beginning to do impersonations.

Stream Source said...

As so it goes as so it goes .. it goes ... as so... goes goes goes

Back to Facebook today, at least for a day. This, after beginning to feel certain there would be no returning to it.

Ha! What does a dreamer know about being dreamed?

William Michaelian said...

How dare you wake me at a time like this? After your earlier visit, I took a chance and opened Facebook, on the hunch that you had made an appearance there. I was amply rewarded.

Stream Source said...

~