Were I to Dream Again this Dream

I’m standing on a grassy hill

Overlooking valleys green

And gazing at the skyward scene

Where the endless blues instill

A sense of unknown depths, marine

In their character and tone,

But hiding something all their own

Underneath the surface sheen.

Then suddenly an empty stone –

A darkened disk – obstructs the sun

And takes its time to slowly run

In front of all the light. Alone

It waits to see what work it’s done,

As floating balls of cooling light

Traverse the skies of midday night,

Purple-blue on dark, at one

With all the magic of this sight

Offered up within a dream

Where eyes can find what treasures seem

Impossible in waking flight.

 

Were I to dream again this dream,

I’d follow what the shadows show

Of lights that, in the darkness, grow

And grant us strength beneath their gleam.

 

This poem describes what I remember from a dream I had several months ago. I started writing it soon after having the dream, because the imagery just seemed so interesting. This past week, I remembered that I had started but never finished it, so I looked at it again and tried to see if I could derive some meaning from it. In the end, what I settled on was this: When all light seems to have fled and we are surrounded by darkness, that's when some other kind of light, previously unknown and unlooked-for, arises and grants us strength to help us carry on.