The forgotten dream
Fresh green in the morning light
Shows clear the earthy land
Distant places on road-mapped ways
Calling the traveller to expected ends
Strong the limb over paces small
Dimensionless points inking the line
Each place marking many roads
Many journeys to many places
So close the pixels hide
What they reveal
A plethora of so much
Gives to the hand so little
Each step a half of the whole
A race so vast
Its shortness never revealed
To a mind lost in the day
Too filled with living
To be lived
Too lost in life
To find life
Beyond the death of arriving
To lose the coming in the going
Distant places lost in the day
Hoping that night
In dreams of forgetfulness
Will find places to hide
The fullness of the day
So that the
Fresh green of the morning light
Shows clear the road-mapped ways
Holding a journey singular
In the dream unforgotten
To distant places
In an earthy pure land.

Associated thoughts to the Forgotten Dream:

Life can be like a dream. It is full of constructed images. Could these be the residue of a dream from another state of consciousness?

Could it be that is why we look at things and see them just as objects in an objective universe? But if we stop and contemplate them, they become much more. They become relational.

They always exist in relationship to other things; relationships potential or realized.

They are always systemic. They consist of many parts in deep relationship to other parts of themselves.

They always have many meanings, some of which we use to make them part of our lives.

They all have a history, which is a story, that chronicles their passage through time and which begins, as all things do, at the beginning of the universe.

So every object we see is much larger than it seems; it is much richer than we notice. Every thing is remarkable and awesome it we contemplate it.

We can live a life ignorant of the incredible things that surround us. We can construct our life and see but the surface of things; be aware of the least of the meanings of things; have values based on the simplest of social things.

Thus we may live with the truth of most things hidden from us, with us seeing through the “glass darkly”; with us seeing but some of the residue of the full light of existence that echoes in us like elements of a forgotten dream.

But maybe we can live in another way.
John