In-between sleep and awake when the lines between reality and fantasy are blurred. |
Your ariose voice is cabled, and wears the sound of the sea. Each thought arrives before you rebreathe the last whisper, a seductress calling me from sleep. Words gently disappear into fantasy, reborn a nautical dream, where a musical ship must ferry your words to me in song. No journey of ease in tranquil leisure, a bond of harmony is formed with the shore. There are no mermaids riding waves to kiss drowning sailors, so hymns are offered to lighthouses that answer in steady bright beats. Each note is a promise of hope that endures within each song as yet unwritten, every dream left unscored. You ask if a deafened Beethoven was cursed with silent dreams; or maybe in blessed sleep found salvation. Not in sawing legs from pianos, but through walking meadows in the night accompanied by his pastoral sixth. Your lullaby makes it easy to dream. My eyes close, and I can taste the distant winds that sweeten austere sails with a lingering scent; freshly missed, and unmistakably yours. I can hear you calling me and should feel your breath. It’s very absence awakens me to find your voice again cabled, thickly whispering goodnights, and regrets. It is your time now to dream. |