"AWAKE - THOSE THAT SLEEP"

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AWAKE - THOSE THAT SLEEP

A miracle beckons at the
Frayed edges of tired dreams.

Each one of us endures the shreds
Of disappointment in our own way
Until the threads that bind our dreams
Finally snap.

Releasing our grip on what
Was never there,
We allow the miracle to replace
What, as imagined victims,
We held so dear.

Now at last
The Truth is revealed,
No victims we - but creators all.

Master architects are we,
Sculpting phantom castles,
With dungeons deep
And elusive bars to hold
Wretched souls in ephemeral bondage.

Cowering, trapped in imaginary corners,
Bowing to legions of imaginary fears,
Our eyes suddenly behold
The hand that held the
Judgment pen was our own.

A sweet and lovely vision,
As sleepers we oppose,
Yet irresistible when finally
The foggy veil of Maya is lifted
From our blinded eye.

Yet in this amazing revelation,
Still, we sleep,
Witness to our dreaming state.

How then to awaken
The sleeping beauty we
Have found ourselves to be?

If architects we are,
Other dreams need be created -
Beautiful, happy dreams that sooth
The soul and heal
The ancient wounds we once
Believed the world inflicted.

Nothing more required - just simple
Softened edges, brightly lit
With aromatic fragrances that
Lift our minds to lofty heights
Where Truth awaits
Our long journey's end.

Within this happy dream,
We awake - those of us that sleep.

-- John and `Ananda" Jo Ann McIntosh
Copyright© 2004

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