JohnLocke
08-25-2011, 12:37 PM
A poem about a dream where I fell deeply in love (egocentric, right? :biggrin5:). I couldn't even begin to get the dream out of my head until I wrote this poem later that day, it was very strange. Anyway, hope you enjoy it.
Ideality
Was it not enough to hope
That daily living could contain
Those dormant parts within my mind
Which from all logic do abstain?
Why, when I lay down my head
Do darker, deeper thoughts arise,
Those which, from a faulty splendor,
Seem as beauty to my eyes?
In that dreamscape I had journeyed
‘cross the stranger homes of Earth.
Foreign tongues sought to withhold me
In a land disjoined from birth.
Through deceit my mind convinced me
That in waking life I walked
Through the pallid concrete cities
Where the ghosts of id did stalk.
Of them, though, behold! An angel,
Who was dressed in humble clothes;
Smiling at me from a distance
Which no human mind beholds.
She approached me, passed the spirits
But no nerves my soul perceived;
Silently leaned down to kiss me
As all earthly bonds relieved.
There was neither space nor time,
Nor elements, nor things constrained.
Even soul would cleave from flesh,
If spirit had, within, remained.
As the astral love continued,
Slowly did our theatre die.
Actors casted down their facemasks,
And the stage revealed its lie.
Mind was married to its body;
Both returned atop my bed.
Yet still the aura of her beauty
Hung around my lifted head.
Though I walk by women truer,
Pause for sights no dream could see,
Still within my restless daydreams,
Perfect beauty torments me.
Ideality
Was it not enough to hope
That daily living could contain
Those dormant parts within my mind
Which from all logic do abstain?
Why, when I lay down my head
Do darker, deeper thoughts arise,
Those which, from a faulty splendor,
Seem as beauty to my eyes?
In that dreamscape I had journeyed
‘cross the stranger homes of Earth.
Foreign tongues sought to withhold me
In a land disjoined from birth.
Through deceit my mind convinced me
That in waking life I walked
Through the pallid concrete cities
Where the ghosts of id did stalk.
Of them, though, behold! An angel,
Who was dressed in humble clothes;
Smiling at me from a distance
Which no human mind beholds.
She approached me, passed the spirits
But no nerves my soul perceived;
Silently leaned down to kiss me
As all earthly bonds relieved.
There was neither space nor time,
Nor elements, nor things constrained.
Even soul would cleave from flesh,
If spirit had, within, remained.
As the astral love continued,
Slowly did our theatre die.
Actors casted down their facemasks,
And the stage revealed its lie.
Mind was married to its body;
Both returned atop my bed.
Yet still the aura of her beauty
Hung around my lifted head.
Though I walk by women truer,
Pause for sights no dream could see,
Still within my restless daydreams,
Perfect beauty torments me.