Fever Dreams

Waking from a fever dream,

Or maybe still sleeping,

Moving out into the stream

water up the ankles creeping.

Across the creek lies a building.

It is made crystalline, like glass.

Out of the water feet stepping,

Trying to get to the structure fast.

In the mind thoughts quickly come.

Memories, flashes of time gone.

In the temple, is a future for some.

And for others, just the awaited dawn.

Hours pass as the day grows long,

And the thoughts begin to thin.

They focus in on a spirit strong,

The ethereal equivalent of kin.

Through the long meditation,

And having reached its finale,

The mind is back from vacation.

Rising up, the day another tally.

The stream, though now night,

Is easily found like a path traveled.

Following its bed up to the height,

And looking back on day unraveled.

On top of the tall, rocky precipice,

Night has taken over every part.

The sun provides light endless,

But tonight the moon won't depart.

That glorious orb of bright white,

Brings a flash back to the house.

The place made of crystal bright.

Bathed in moonlight still as a mouse.

What is fierce during the long day,

Runs and hides deep down in dark.

But where is the state in which to stay?

Among the living sun or the night stark?

Waking, perched on cliff's shear edge,

Wondering where the mind had gone.

Struggling to stand, and lacking a wedge,

The eyes open wide to receive the dawn.

How dark the night was, aside for stars,

And the bright revealing light of the moon.

In that light, the shadows play on scars,

And bring up things unknown to the noon.

Darkness is as illuminating to secrets,

As the sun is to the shadowed places.

In the light we see where we frequent,

But the night is where the truth embraces.

The kin made known by careful thinking,

Is as old as the earth and its position.

It can be seen at last lights winking,

The time of the day night transition.

The fear held inside of the unknown,

And the longing for perceived vision,

Are brought to the surface and shown.

With the night, fears and feats are arisen,

So that, the idea of lacking confronted,

A more powerful sense of self is made.

In the dark, shortcomings are hunted,

And yet, the mind can find easy rest in shade.