Illness and imagination

It has been days
Since I dreamed.
Rest has become
Shallow,
My nights
Grey and distant.

A veil has fallen
Between myself
And the Dream Continent.

I miss
The sandy shores.
The emerald sea.
The distant mountains.
The cool streams
And quiet ponds
Among the wildflower fields.
Even the forest Devourers
Have fallen silent.

The ghosts,
Have wandered elsewhere.
Darkness itself
Keeps its distance.

There are no cranes.
No serpents.
Only a dull grey silence.
An empty feeling
Of abandonment.

I long to walk
Those familiar paths.
To breathe
The scented air.
To feel
The ocean spray.

Yet the veil remains.
And I cannot pass.
What strange magic
Has found me?

What cloud
Has settled over my mind,
Hiding
The Ocean of Dreams?

My body fights
To remain awake.
Sleep now brings
Only colourless thoughts.

Perhaps,
As I have learned before,
The only way beyond
Is through.
So I continue
My quiet journey,

Trusting that somewhere
Beyond this veil,
The world of dreams
Still waits,
Patiently,
For my return.

Lost days of Wonder

Some days I sit and hope

That somewhere in the world,
A little magic still exists—

Something capable of making
Cold science pause
And shake its head
In disbelief.

Little inspires wonder anymore.

Even the word itself
Feels worn smooth
From overuse.

The days of innocence and enchantment
Seem long gone,

As though the world
Has lost touch
With its inner child.

Yet the magic I seek
Is not found in tricks
Or miracles.

It is the magic of surprise.

The feeling that stirs
When you stand before
An ancient tree in a silent forest.

The energy that comes
From being among ancient things.

The magic of stories
Passed from one voice to another.

The magic of imagination.

I miss wonder.

I miss people
Who still believe in it.

I live in the real world,

But mine is very different
From yours.

Kingom of Sleep

The Kingdom of Sleep
Was elusive last night.
My eyes remained open,
Though I held them shut tight.

I stared through the darkness
With my eyes tightly closed,
And entry was forbidden
For reasons never disclosed.

Now I sit in the morning dim
As the sun prepares to rise.
I have much work before me,
Yet my weary mind seeks closed eyes.

Oh Kingdom of Sleep, do let me in
When the hour feels more right,
Not in the day when there’s work to do,
But when I lie in darkness at night.

The Wildflower

Upon the bank of a winding river,
That snaked its way
Through the Wildflower Valley,

Beneath the swaying branches
Of ancient willow trees,
A dreamer sat alone.
Glassy-eyed.
Silent.
Sullen.

Though songbirds filled the air with music,
And a brilliant blue sky stretched overhead,
Tears welled within their eyes.

Their bare feet skimmed
The river’s surface.
Large blue and yellow fish rose and splashed.
Waterfowl drifted gently upon the current.
Sweet floral scents
Rolled down from the meadows beyond.

Yet none of it reached them.

The dreamer wiped their eyes
And lay back among soft silver ferns.
Unable to take comfort
In the beauty of that moment.

For they had known loss.

And all the wonders
Of the Dream Continent
Could not outweigh
The sorrow carried within their heart.

For a time they remained there,
Listening to the river,
Watching clouds drift overhead.

Then slowly they rose.
With measured steps
They crossed the wildflower fields,
Trailing their fingers
Across blossoms of every colour.

The lighthouse stood waiting in the distance.
Beyond it,
A boat waited upon the shore.
A vessel bound
For the waking world.

The dreamer boarded silently.
And the Dream Continent faded behind them.
They soon awoke within their bed.
Morning light filtered through the window.
Their hand remained clenched.
Slowly, they opened it.

Resting in their palm
Was a single wildflower,
Brilliantly coloured,
And impossibly real.

Sadness is a Season

Sadness is weather of the heart,
At times a spring breeze,
Barely felt as it drifts through blooming fields;

At times the deep snows of winter,
Falling without end,
Silencing the world beneath their weight;

At times a summer tempest,
Splitting the heavens
With wind and thunder.

And sometimes,
It is only an autumn mist,
Gathering in quiet places,
Blurring what was once clear.

Sadness wears many skies.
So watch the horizon within yourself,
Pay attention to inner forecasts,
And prepare for each season as it comes;

For no storm remains forever,
And beyond every clouded day,
Some light still waits.

The Tide Within

My mood over the past four days
Has been complicated.
A journey through anxiety,
Mental exhaustion,
and Worry,
Followed by moments of humour.
Then sadness.
And by the end,
A strange fragility.

I can feel tears waiting
Just beyond the surface.
Then confusion mingles with laughter.
Then fleeting happiness.
Gives way to quiet contemplation.

This journey feels as though
It is happening beside me.
I watch it unfold.

The moods are caught in ocean tides,
Moving with an endless ebb and flow.
And I stand upon the pier,
Watching the water drain away to sea,

Only for it to return once more,
Crashing against the shore,
Flooding my senses,
And overwhelming me.

Yourself, A Journey

There are vast worlds within us all.

The mind is limitless,
Yet for many,
It remains uncharted.
Untouched lands of imagination
Await the curious traveller.

Take a moment.
Close your eyes.
Prepare your vessel.

Stand upon the shores of thought,
And when you are ready,
Set sail.

Explore the world within.
Record the sights,
The sounds,
The sensations,
Of your own boundless realm.

Make landfall
Upon those lands.
Walk their fields.
Climb their mountains.
Wander their forests.

Or simply sit awhile
With the person,
the world,
residing within.
Listen.
Learn.
And perhaps,
Among those hidden places,
You will find peace.

Then, when your journey feels complete,
Return to your vessel,
Steer it homeward again,
And return once more,

To the Land of the Waken.

How do you dream?

How do you dream?

Is it with colours and peace,
Beneath warm skies
And gentle seas?

Or are you alone in the dark,
With a haunted scream,

Do moonlit fields
Stretch before your eyes,

Or do shadows gather
Beneath starless skies?

Tell me,

When sleep finally claims you,
What world do you find?

Chasing Shadows

Today my mind has been misbehaving.
I am not entirely certain
What awakened it,
But my anxiety has been raging.

Am I overtired?
Overstimulated?
Under-exercised?
Yes, to all three.

Now the night has arrived.
I should be content.
The day is done.
The world has grown quiet.

Yet I can feel it within me,
Squirming.
A restless discomfort
That refuses to settle.

Like a serpent coiled inside my body,
Twisting through muscle and bone,
Knocking against my ribs,
My stomach,
My thoughts,
Searching desperately
For a way out.

I know it is not real,
Yet its presence feels undeniable.
A writhing shadow
Beneath the skin.

Sleep may be my only refuge.
The salvation of unconsciousness.

The place where the serpent loosens its grip,
And the mind finally falls silent.

Until then,
I sit in the darkness,
Chasing shadows.

Keep of my Mind

Once you enter,
You never truly leave.
Those are the simple principles
By which my mind abides.

Your current whereabouts are irrelevant.
If you walk the physical world,
So be it.
If you have crossed beyond it,
So be it.
My mind rarely distinguishes
Between the two.

If our lives connected,
Even briefly,
Then somewhere within me
You remain.
Perhaps tucked away
In some quiet corner,
Filed among countless memories,
But never forgotten.

I do not yet possess
The luxury of forgetfulness.
That will come later,
When age lays claim
To the walls of my mind.

But for now,
You are safe here.
Within the Keep of Memory.
Where you have become
Part of my thoughts,
Part of my actions,
Part of the person I am.

For those who enter
Never truly leave.