Thursday, January 05, 2006

Dream Praying On Coal Rainbows

Before I woke up to continue the quest,
I heard myself asking the guardian angel:

Are the inspirations of smaller natural miracles

like wild rainbows on the darkest coal surfaces of ancestral remains, really any easier for myself or many to grasp (childishly) before they fly past, than the supposedly impossible dreams, visions, hopes, and even wishes
we ask Spirit and the Spirits to encourage to swim upstream into this world (and be fruitful and multiply before they die) anyway,
and flip and flop clownishly against the mirrored fires and silent winds of the Moon, that shadow river, and her tricky currents and mighty rip tides,
that we, such slowly growing yet rapidly aging, shining ones, set swirling (above as below) so weirdly ourselves,
so many generations ago?

I remember less faintly today, maybe: Many nights I ask my angel for answers,
within these vivid temples and ageless schools of sleep,
yet usually, suddenly, I run back outside to play, just before I have listened
long enough to hear and begin to understand
my angel's wisest answers!


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