Dream shavings lie scattered on my pillow
Whittled to slivers of sparkle and shade
Curled up and disappearing into daylight
Brushed together into a handful of nonsense
Picasso’d deconstructions of unreality
Torn into scraps and gathered up
To be collaged into fragment fantasies
Other underworldly passages into dark divinity
Soul windows and secret passageways
That defy logic and reason naturally
With the assuredness of dreams
David Trudel © 2013
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That’s the thing about dreams–they evaporate so quickly, but beautifully too.
And sometimes there’s just enough left upon waking to capture a fragment before they dissolve.
yes–love when that happens.