Dream Weaver

By G. Matthew King

 

            Forget logic for a second and forget what feels right.  We live in a world of
events happening at random with infinite purpose for each and every single breath.  Our
lives spiral in slow dances around each others.  Some of us must bow out to make room for
others on center stage.  Spotlights rain down on a select few heroes and villains, yet
each of us is a main character playing a bit part in someone else�s dream.  Dreams live
and breath in their own existence, daring us to seize them.  They taunt us, ever beyond
our truest reach, yet cannot exist without us to give them shape and form in music and
poetry.  Music and poetry flood the heart and mind, calling to us seductively.  Like an
almost forgotten lover.  She beckons me, calling, ever calling me with a siren�s voice.
A voice so pretty, like a holy angel calling out to me.  A force that can only be resisted
at the cost of my sanity.  Sanity lost a long time ago at the end of my once life and
beginning of this new one.  A new life.  To have a true life.  To live for my God in
Heaven and to see Him in the poetry that surrounds me daily.  Beauty in all things; what
of my own reflection?  I have seen the Devil�s own eyes; he is in every pool and every
mirror.  Mirror, mirror, on the wall and the land beyond the looking glass.  Alice�s
Wonderland, but a pale image next to my own.  It is mine and I guard it jealously, inviting
in only a select few.  A heart like mine, being sought but never existing save in my own
mind.  In my head, she is, the perfect lover.  Trying to exist without dreams only leads to
death.  Trust me, I work for the government.  I am an elemental caught out of time and
space, to live as a shadow and wraith.  I am so precious even as I am ashes.


4/15/97