I am a dead man, with ghosts, everyday, passing through me, reminding me: Keep Dreaming. I watch an imaginary screen exposing me to two-dimensional love, filling me with hope of the tragedy I long ago stopped believing in…Keep Dreaming.
We write our own stories. This i have forgotten. Sitting in further stillness with the breeze playing and flipping my pages as I try to write, a horsefly landing with her checkered tail between me and my scribblings, staring at me, licking her talons, wondering what I am as I wonder what she is, both of us waiting for the other to strike first before she flies away, buzzing Keep Dreaming.
Today I was reminded that I cannot have what I want if there is no intention, no gratitude, no trust in the unique hope I have dedicated my life to creating and believing in. And, in front of me, as I write on this stone table, is the amythest which reminds me subtly of my death a few years ago and of the tides ready to take me to where I need to be, if only I would for once and for all untie the boat, hoist my anchor out of the ground and offer the levantar my submission. Keep Dreaming.
She is out there, i just know it. My muse, my calm, my love, the breast who will pacify the storms when they become too heavy, who will induce the chaos when my life becomes too complacent. Keep Dreaming. She is there, and I am finding my voice again which will allow me to call out for her once again, to manifest her once again, to visualize that wonderful agony once again. She is there, I just know it, in my dream reality, in my waking delusion, in the cracks of consciousness, in my tangible yearning imagination. She is there, craving my poetry as much as my touch, lusting for my breathe as much as my ferocious passion.
Keep Dreaming. Words I have long forgotten, the persistent flame, growing from those last scraps of oxygen, which refused to allow itself to be extinguish. Permitting the bugs to eat me alive, the pessimism to bear down on my wings, the circumstances of when I was alive to still dictate the direction of my new life as spirit, I have allowed myself to succumb to the monsters of my past rather than fill my soul with these ghosts of my present.
Keep Dreaming, it is all we have, because there is no waking up anymore. Bathe in the distortion of this fantasy.
Here is where my love waits for me, where she has been waiting for all this time, patient and understanding towards me as I will be towards her. May these pages be that first rope detaching me from the shores of my contempt. Please. Because I believe I am finally ready to Keep Dreaming.