Why Do I Write? Let Me Count The Ways

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Tis given that so we go about our lives

Flame-filled flesh foregoing the world,

Hidden and concealed, in the shadows of the mask,

Seeking the grain to erect the pearl.

 

What worlds and wills lie behind such veiled eyes?

What whims and wakes swims so purely in the straits of your very Soul?

Resign yourself... your Heart cries that the Dream be told.

 

Cast away your mortal restraints!

Throw off thy Darkened Veil! Thy Shadowed Mask!

And Harken!

List! 

...oh List.

 

So dwells the Dreaming.

Cast your eyes unabashed unto the True Vision.

Such Visions!

And so sprung forth our forebears’ Visions which have spurred a hundred Visions and revisions.

Such Dreams held within enraptured hands that did dare allow us to hold a moonbeam.

 

And Words... Ah, such words!

 

Words that spawned a thousand aching heartbeats and the stars breadth of fallen tears.

 

Within the silent solace of our True Souls

A looking glass to us beholds,

A suggestive magick wisp that whisks us away within a wondrous whirlwind.

 

Wherein we find the Dreaming is reality;

And the tangible, the trickster.

 

And so never the glass need ever be covered,

The Dreamer, who alone is God!

And such a God are They.

 

Gods to conjure innumerable lovers, heroes, foes and friends.

Whose words and wills mix smiles and ills,

And hold out a hearing hand to faces their eyes may never meet,

To those whose hearts which in Dreams do their souls seek retreat,

Unto those eyes and hearts the Gods bequeath a Dream that never dies.

 

It is the Dreaming we cannot betray,

Meant never to be contained;

To live in silence, in darkness, in shadow

For then, the Dream is slain.

 

And “Live It Must!” the Gods declare,

So they riddle out the Dreams,

Gathering the wills and wholes of their True Souls,

So that eyes and hearts may dare take hold of such wondrous new moonbeams.

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