Entry Two

 
 
The conundrum begins  
It sweats  
in the early hours  
just before the birds wake  
singing operatic manic  
sunrise choruses  
to heaven  
 
The escalation of growth  
sits quietly;  
a dream come true  
A fantasy of worn souls
colliding in
that open connection, understood  
 
One hand rests on his chest  
the other lies quietly on her thigh  
Some dreams
are just dreams  
others are a reality  
pre-empted  
pre-seen  
pre-sent  
by the angels who died  
before us.  
 
Maybe life happens  
the day  
we say  
 
"I dreamed this true"  
 
-x-