Dreaming presence


Eyes wide, shut and dreaming
into ever after
the seeming present busy-ness
of this nothingness of time
A charity of hope
No condition, except submission
to the tragedy of days

Lost, It was a small thing
One might never miss a beat
With so much pleasure after all
Filling vacancies with lies
Her fruit of all temptations
Seeming sweeter than the love

Consciousness, the confluence
Where water used to flow
Now strewn with muddy tumble stone
of verse within the rhyme
Makes the ever present rambling
unnerving still to find

Words, like cream are churning
Into butter cool and sweet
The anger and the innocence
upset the curds and when
Our life takes up the questioning
Dreaming presence will remain