The One Who Dreams…
Hidden behind each phrase, beyond the veil so slight,
Dreams someone—you see him? There! His charm alight
Some call him a wise, some ponder deep, why, oh—
He makes the void resound, when his tears start to flow.
Behind, so far behind, like a blue bird in flight,
Look how his wings carve the horizons bright!
You don’t see? Look again—atop the café’s dome,
It fades when He speaks, slowly, its walls breaks, roam.
It is He, who spins the spheres with unseen art,
Celestial and boundless, on infinity’s chart
Don’t you see? Look again—when his rage takes form
Tornadoes dance—his tears, is this rain so warm.
It is He… When he breathes, he loves, his Love so true,
Each morning that you see, you call it sunlight’s hue.
The strings of his lyre vibrate, immortal golden streams,
Sublime, poetic rays that guard you’re waking dreams.
Look upon the Sacred Peak where he finds repose,
Each night he leaps—his plunge, a sacrifice that glows.
Thus he transforms, is firing, pure alchemy in light,
Emerging from the sea—as Moon, as bird in flight
You don’t see?! My friend, looks straight, be true, stand tall
Till he’s born—his charm, on your face, soon, will call…
You don’t believe?! You doubt, what seems obvious, so right?
Yet when He speaks me, I feel, I’m his tear, inside…
Hidden behind each phrase, beyond this worldly hue,
He dreams in purest essence, behind the world in view.
He dwells beyond, like curtains who’s falling drawn aside,
And in your heart, perhaps, is his Love who’s so wide.
Close your eyes—now see! His splendor shining near…
Don’t be blind, no more… You’re now, his loving tear…
***
