Dreams appear like a ghost in the night,
A fragmented spirit from a Dali painting,
Melted time and distorted faces.
Dreams never lie
No matter how convoluted
And cryptic they seem.
They only tell the raw truth,
Dreams guide the receptive dreamer,
A rudder of the ancient soul,
A boat slicing through an open sea
Of things, the dreamer needs to know.
Note: Picture taken of Los Angeles street art in the vicinity of Melrose Avenue.
“A rudder of the ancient soul” so very true. A beautiful poem.
Thanks Marsa 🙏🏻
I love your poem and your artwork. The last two lines really speak to me, that sense there is an ocean of the unknown, free of logic, yet supporting us in our travels, taking us where we need to go.
Well said, Deborah. We have to be open to the messages in our dreams in order to fulfill our destiny. 🙏🏻