Dream Chatter
There are times, in the night, when my bones whisper through my dreams that they will break. The tension is too much and if I don't let go, they will splinter in the unyielding grip of my determination.I listen to my dreams, all the secrets of myself are murmured just below the surface of my mind and as the ear turns inward the single notes all sound into a chord and then a harmony arises that helps me grow.
But only if I listen. And knowledge does not always show the path that must be taken, just a fact or two that must be taken in and centered in the heart to make the life I live authentic.
My bones are strong, compressed and buttressed by the weight of years and gravity, but there is this incident that worries them because it worries me so much I am losing sleep.
My dream time's turning sour with the weeds of other peoples' power trying to supplant my own and the flavour of betrayal scars the mouth, the tongue, like acid making speech a memory of what was, what must come again.
I am the architect of my existence and I feed my bones to keep them strong. The power that is mine will stand against a thousand armies many people strong if I have faith, if I listen to the whispers in the night that tell me how to go.