Poem: Kindling Dream

Quote of the day:
I dreamed I was a butterfly, flitting around in the sky; then I awoke. Now I wonder: Am I a man who dreamt of being a butterfly, or am I a butterfly dreaming that I am a man? -Zhuangzi

image: DeviantArt/Kev-kills

I gasped as the cold winds brushed.
Against my face.
Like a painter's stroke.
On a blank canvass.

I watched leaves detach from trees.
Like thieves escaping from crime scenes.

I hear violin strings or maybe a mandolin?
I can picture the fiddlers playing with ease.

Like A.B.C.'s deep inside a symphony...
...Orchestra, two acts conjoined like Siamese.
I'm fulfilled with their striking expertise.
Its like crossing the seven seas.

I close my eyes and take it all in.
I transport back to the present.
I circumvent my emotions.
Contentment and resentment.

Calmness prevails. No more winds.
I opened my eyes to my painted thoughts.
I start afresh, I've given myself a new lease.
A blank canvas replaced with a masterpiece.



Peace. Love. Serenity*

Current Listen: Dave Brubeck -Take Five