Dreaming

"I want to write a poem today!"

I awoke with that desire,
and contemplating the theme,
I slept again and dreamed.
Therein an ebullient wanderer asked,
"Is this about sleeping or dreaming?"

"Writing", I said,
"I'm composing today!"

The wanderer smiled.
Did he know my joy
before we heard the mother's solo?:
"Sing pretty songs like pretty birds,"
 to infant Ishma in her lap,
and while she slept,
I wondered, "Is she dreaming?"
The wanderer too, "Are we in her dream?"

"I don't think so," I said.
"This is my dream you're wandering through!"

An inspired lavender rose appeared.
The wanderer sniffed its fragrance.
Soothing!
A thorn gently pierced his nose!

"This is my dream," the gardener said,
revealing Love for all his flowers.

I'm not sure," the wanderer piped,
"there's adventure in this dream!"

"A quest in the Light for me," I said
and couldn't remember...
"Am I dreaming?"

A brilliant butterfly tweaked,
"It's not mine, but I'm dreaming!"

The gardener and the wanderer smiled,
and others, illumined with grander smiles,
thought the dream was their delight,
and beautiful birds singing sweet songs
glided through Ishma's sphere of dreams!