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

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*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.