Mystical Dreams

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I watch from the trees

swinging on a hammock

the earth swaying with the wind.

Lost in my journal,

a jungle of words

sit waiting for the gathering

of fire and hearth.

The creek never stops the flow

descending,

cascading privately

downhill

a memorized path

while I keep holding on

to the bark rooted inside

of me.

Wind chimes dance to

an alto gypsy symphony

resembling Irish moors

long ago in a remote

country side.

The flapping of wings

flutter all around me,

embracing the openness

as I emerge from here to there

through waking dreams

in the gorge of a private forest.

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4 thoughts on “Mystical Dreams

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