We walk across ths snowy fields
a chance meeting yet we always
knew this day would arrive.
I do not know your face
from dreams of a spirit
walking between tall trees,
always obscured and hidden.
But with the song playing out
here between each snowflake.
I know it is you.
Submerged in the depths of winter,
the land beneath layers of ice,
and the pond a giant glass oval,
I dream of childhood…
As the snow blanketed the sky and trees
we listened intently to the radio
waiting, hoping that our school
would close for the day.
After snowstorm stopped,
outside in the front-yard,
the snow piled high along the street,
we built snow-forts and prepared for battle.
Now, so many years later,
dreams and outlooks have shifted
and what was more external,
has become an internal quest
for silence and peace,
watching the setting sun.
When this life’s pace and chaos
become too much I know where I can turn.
I return to my roots,
I return to the empty fields.
Here is a clean slate waiting
for the mind to create.
They offer possibilities,
an endless space to chase and capture dreams.
This is where the mind can exist
without limitations or boundaries.
This is home.
Emerging from the depths,
wrangling free from its grips,
I took the only path I knew,
the only path that still made sense.
Cast from recent dreams
the path wavered and moved
as I passed through,
the grey sky dripped
with bright colors painting
the trees and grasses.
In the fractured sleep of night’s immersed
in dreams based in nothing familiar or known,
one word repeated over and over – direct.
I watched power-less as background images
of tall buildings, lattice, and cross-stitched patterns
rotated and approached my view with ever increasing velocity.
At the end (or beginning) of a tunnel
bathed in wavering light with no sound
a shadow slowly approached.
The sides of the tunnel began to
move and rotate, grey lines
and intricate patterns covered everything.
and I briefly lost sight of the shadow
until something pushed me through
and I landed on the empty fields
near the forest where we first
met in ancient times and you
silently spoke directly to me.
In unbound dreams
steeped in limitless colors
the machines sleep.
Metal skin glistens
as another day begins,
as our held breath releases.
We start with the same promise
that this will be the last day
and we will stand here united.
On this war ground with the rising sun
we circle the sleeping machines…
On the long dark road
surrounded by tall trees
we slowly passed zombies
standing like burnt out streetlights.
Surrounded by silence
except the tires on asphalt
they did not move or
blink while we stared.
Hours later we still
were uncertain if they were real
or forgotten nightmares
emerging as signs.