In This Dream I Had of Life In this dream I had of life from the cradle to the grave I dreamt a world uncouth and rife with makers and of the unmade A visage of nomads and Bedouins bleak blazed in clay carried along sandstone like fine silt spray their sun-bleached brows told of man’s nature in sweat their blood carried forth in stories old and pallid In one such tale under the desert sun parched voices sung as distant breath was set ablaze upon all this forgotten obelisk and stone In another beneath night torchlight languor lit away teeth and bone chattered through faux frosts as the waves were braved in search of home An hourglass stretched on along with crescent came creeping shadow the caravansary was awash with music promises of an oasis within reach but forever a mirage At morn I walked with them for hours our eternity never came my silhouette under the evening sun an epitaph I shed my skin for a whisper of fate scarce and ethereal My reward came quietly grey-stoned hearts danced silently in lamped streets our voices grew plenty but their songs were no longer sung every neighbor a stranger to his own In this dream of life I had from the cradle to the grave in a world uncouth and rife with makers and of the unmade
Giuseppe Gillespie – November 2022
*I was reading about ancient civilizations and then had a very strange dream that I half remember. In it I saw vast cityscapes and crowds of people passing by. As I tried to focus on individuals from the crowd they became blurred and would walk past before I could discern much detail. What struck me is how quiet it was; there was no sound at all. No traffic, no voices, no footsteps – very eerie but strangely serene.
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