The Seasons of the Dream

I summon a day, inside the sun, firing its golden waves 
delivered on their long carousel, to tide, wind and life for bloom of beauty and provision                                       
only to transmute to the universe and return to the eternal rhythm for which they were born 
its radiant renewal enjoin my dream

In days pursuing these I listen, eyes closed, to misty waves 
delivered on their long carousel, preceding warm sea winds, caressing the sand as terns return
only to recede from shore and return to the eternal rhythm for which they were born
their siren song enjoin my dream

my interlude instills—rain pulsing pane, tearing frail life from limb 
delivered on its long carousel, wind undulating its time to mine, a melancholic rhyme
only to seek river, sea and sun and return to the eternal rhythm for which it was born
gray glooms the blues enjoin my dream

for this end I adjure when blustery winds drive crystalline tears
delivered on their long carousel, blinding alabaster counterpane offering a languished land repose
only to deliquesce to that land, stream and sea and return to the eternal rhythm for which they were born
its austere allure enjoin my dream

 

 

Written by Scott Schoffstall
© June 19, 2011
all rights reserved
Poetic Sojourn


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About Scott Schoffstall

I'm a relatively new poet having started in earnest 11/2010. I have sought the authentic and am still on that quest. I've diverged from the norm yet always reached for the universal. My interests were always beyond the here and now. Beyond the taste, touch, smell, hear, see. Where the mind and the spirit transcend the physical. They say perception is reality. Is it? Are we truly all there is?

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