Dreamland

A world of a million dreams,
Flowing from the soul, like streams,  
Sparks in the mind,  
Leaving this world behind,  
Fading into the other realm,  
Like a ship's captain at the helm.  
  
Falling into a million little butterflies,  
Those little parts of me, cannot disguise,  
The alien that lies inside,  
The dreaming state has opened the portal of my third eye wide.  
   
Amber bubbles, from amber pools,  
Float above, from their fountains, like translucent jewels,  
Interflowing with the twilight,  
To form a kaleidoscope of color and of light.  
   
Stars that shine from the earth,  
Illuminating every firth,  
Twinkle below the fish, that swim through the air,  
From the light, their scales glister.  
   
Ethereal rain over sweet melilots,  
Trees, shedding fine, downy, fluffy, seed pods,  
Slowly floating to the ground,  
Throughout the world, they abound.  
   
Polychromatic infinities,  
Written with inaccessible cardinal series,  
From the iridescent, opalescent, ink of the pen,  
Of the mathematical doyenne.  
   
Can you take a solid ball,  
Rearrange the parts of it all,  
And like a sly fox,  
End up with more, in this unorthodox paradox?  
   
Serene faery rings,  
In kaleidoscopic Mandelbrot decorated fruitwood dwellings,  
Zoom down to Planck lengths and Planck times of multi-hued rainbows,  
And dark, and pastel, moonbows.  
   
Can an infinite number of actions,  
More than millions, and millions,  
Be done in a finite amount of time,  
Such as speaking in rythm and rhyme?  
   
As it declines,  
The dim, cold, absolute zero kelvin, nebulae above, shines,  
From what we thought was midnight's eternal dormant abyss,  
But we were amiss.  
   
Because from that abyss,  
Shines a growing light, hard to miss.  
From stars,  
Like space jewels, though still faint blurs,  
Surrounded by sun dogs,  
The hands have stopped on all the clocks.  
   
They bloom, a thousand black roses, delphiniums, and Corpse Flowers,  
With magickal powers,  
Amongst the clockwork, the copper gears, and the cogs, of the automations,  
Rusty, and out of function,  
Hemlock, Moonflower, and Jade Vine,  
Grow, and intwine,  
Amongst the dormant lasers of the abandoned androids and cyborgs,  
Dressed in Celtic torcs.  
   
Windows alight the paths of cobbles, with embers,  
From the silhouetted family members,  
And the blazes,  
Of their fireplaces.  
Colored smoke comes from their chimneys,  
Creating a belt of Venus, as some tickle the ivories,  
And some play grooves on the bagpipes,  
Playing the songs of old, written by the scribes.  
   
And further along, on this journey of fate,  
Is a drawbridge that, as of late,  
Has been upgraded,  
A drawbridge colored with the root of Alkanet,  
And that now, with new electronics,  
Now activates with humor, with this fix.  
   
Under a waning moon, retrograde,  
Is a moon reflecting, moat surrounded, castle of Tardigrade,  
With a tiered waterfall that does cascade,  
Into a koi and bioluminescent jellyfish pond,  
And a diverse, flourishing, garden, with palm fronds,  
And fruit trees, triad by triad, of mango and lichi, by more, smaller, ponds.  
   
And by those smaller ponds,  
Miniature beaches, of rainbow shores, vacillant,  
Next to ghostly, ethereal, stables, of spirit horses,  
Colored with nebulae, speckled with stars, and quite gracious,  
As they walk amongst the clouds,  
And are hidden by energy shrouds.  
   
In the garden, by a magma field,  
Feasts of cheeses, garlic, and coffee do yield,  
Healing energy for and from, the shaman healer,  
By the lava river.  
Wheel of life keeps turning, beginning, middle, end, Maiden, Mother, Crone,  
For what purpose, it will never be known.  
   
And the languid, sleeping shape-shifter, deep within that garden,  
By the lake of diatoms, merfolk and sirens,  
Sleeps in dragon form,  
Before awaking into centaur form,    
For the princess,  
The very diverse, Elf/Orc/Troll/Dwarf/Gnome princess.  
   
And beneath Luna and the stars, deep within that kingdom,  
In the center of that kingdom,  
On the Tree of Life, sits the soothsayer and apothecary,  
With her tinctures of Sugar Blood, and Bottled History,  
And the jars and bottles, brought to her,  
Of nocturnal nightmares, entrusted to her.  
   
Spell books, bottles of diatomaceous earth, and diaphanous whisps,  
Jars of ingredients, she did risp,  
And chests of treasures far beyond imagination,  
And papers she was given of confessions of sin, from many an interrogation,    
As well as semantic clarification books and documents,  
And nightshade and moonflower ointments.  
   
This tree, with pale, and dark, leaves of Opalescent Kaleidoscopes,  
Does bring them many hopes,  
As it reaches from the Earth to the heavens,  
Bridging the gap, between the gods and the Pagans,  
Turning need, to abundance,  
As, to celestial musical vibrations from said tree, widdershins and deasil they dance.  
   
With fruits of Yellowish-blue, and reddish-green, impossible colors,  
Bestowed upon the tree, by Cerridwyn and Herne, as prevention of murders,  
That are full with a peace essence,  
That are honored with reverence,  
From before the beginning of time,  
To after the end of time.  
   
And at the base of this tall, strong, tree,  
That's been there for all of history,  
Is the programming, the coding for all life,  
It's branches, like circuit boards, connect all life,  
A plane of quantum transcendence, has this tree reached,  
And this bioluminescent tree, does shade the offshoot tribe, that the others ditched.  
   
Ostracized like a plague of ash,  
With the others, they did clash,  
It all started when they called uncouth,  
A woman of youth,  
When she and an elder did fall in love,  
As their lives had interwove.  
   
Friends for all life,  
Until later in life,  
When she grew older,  
More than a friendship, did foster,  
She fell for his kindness, bright smile, large, blue eyes, wrinkles, and long, thick, grey, hair,  
And he fell for her laugh, sweetness, big, blue, eyes, and long, thick, medium-brown, hair.  
   
Diaphanous and bright was their May-December love,  
Priceless, like a pirate's treasure trove.  
Several children they did have,  
From one of many nights, clear as a photograph,  
Soft, delecate, lacelike skin, against silken sheets and cushions,  
Seemingly existing simultaneously in all dimensions.  
   
Uniting under starlit skies,  
In a world of paradise,  
Guided with love,  
From the gods above,  
Sending chills up their spines,  
Two souls, who, even the moon, their love outshines.  
   
Then, feeling they would be accepted, more did the same,  
But they were all met with shame,  
So before they could be banished,  
They left, to do as they wished.  
To start their own tribe, start their own families,  
Now, hundreds of years later, two kingdoms, one with many an age-gap family.  
   
As the birds of winter fly overhead,  
Above the banners decorated with the gouette,  
The offshoot kingdom is caught in a Mandela effect,  
Believing the world always perfect,  
Without the early separation of the tribes,  
Undeterred by other's negative vibes.  
   
And if one is so lucky,  
On a twilight, with a super blood wolf moon, one may see,  
When falling into slumber, the magickal doorway,    
Only those fated, can find the way,  
Where play, the fae,  
And the rest of your life, you'll spend every day.