Poetry Camp (February) ✓

Day 13: Master of Dreams

Poetry Camp (February)
Fox-Trot-9

Day 13: Master of Dreams

   I have said, Ye are gods; and all of you are children of the most high.
   —Ps. 82:6

Inside this realm, so tempest-tossed
   And weary of it all,
I've seen the best and worst of men,
   Now shattered past recall.

Now in the doldrums of my thoughts,
   No bitter thought remains,
But just the breath of easeful death
   That lingers in its chains.

It overhangs the sky above,
   A shroud so black and deep
That nothing save the far horizon
   Distinguishes my sleep

From death and all its ill contents,
   Eternity in rest;
Then something in my weary brain
   Distracts my weary jest.

The bliss of death, eternal rest,
   Eternity it is
To think and feel but have no will
   T' indulge in such a bliss.

I've lost my way upon this boat,
   Adrift upon this realm,
Without the rudder or the oars,
   Without the captain's helm.

Do not embrace the world, he says;
   Let it instead embrace you;
Live in the moment, live the now,
   And it will not disgrace you.

I paraphrase such knowing wisdom
   And fling it to the skies,
And in the skies appear the stars,
   Constellations, galaxies!

Then something distant ere my eyes
   Distracts this astral grandeur;
A gleam cuts through the grand horizon
   Like divine Excalibur!

The morning of my conscious thoughts
   Arises from afar,
Appearing in the guise of God,
   The greatest, grandest star.

And just ahead of me appears
   His son, the Son of Man,
Standing upon the waters deep
   And stretching out his hand.

And so I venture from the boat
   In faith and fickle doubt
And start to sink into the deep;
   In panic I call out,

"Jesus, help me!" And ere my eyes
   He grasps me by the hand,
Saying, "Oh ye of little faith,
   You too are Son of Man.

"What I can do, so you can do.
   The Spirit that resides
In me also resides in you!
   In you too He abides!"

And so I rise and meet his eyes
   And view in them my own,
A world of life and love and cheer
   In which I see God's throne.

In worldly life, I'm subject to
   The system of the Beast,
But in my dreams I'm master here,
   For I am my own priest:
So wills it from the God above
   And by my inner Christ.

(To be continued . . .)

A/N: Okay, I hope this poem doesn't offend people too much, but here's another one of the longer poems. I was actually inspired by the picture (see above).