Magpie 161

http://magpietales.blogspot.com


If the dream is a translation of waking life, waking life is also a translation of the dream. ~ Rene Magritte


Some days I walk all one, not alone.  I woke this morning to the sounds and the space and the way my dreams are within me.  You laugh and exhale beside me and I wonder, is this what I’ve always felt, way back in the crevices of my mind and my heart and my cells?  Where in the world did you ever find me and how do you peel me back each day, under the heart and over the mind and between the layers of memory and solutions I never created.  Wishing each day for this and that but really, just happy to have that moment eighty or so days away where yes, as you said, it is, it shall be.  We are wonderful are we not?  I see and taste and feel rhythm in these days, I am grateful.  Tomorrow is one where you may not recognize yet there is an enduring comfort in the squeeze of our palms, in how crowds are battled yet life is easy.  We are easy.  They get up and dress up and cover up and are unrecognizable – we are not them.  They suit up and fess up and dream of getting out of those straightjackets – we have known them.  And in all that mystery and all that time, there is wonder and pursuit and laying back under the southern hemisphere of stars, thinking, this, THIS is what it’s all about.  Simplicity and raw vulnerability and music that makes you wanna pull me close and say baby, this is all I need.  Stuff of dreams, I say, but yes, this life, this awakening, will always mirror what we crave.  I wake up and I’m at your side, you are at my side, we look, we know, we exhale.  Every drop and every step is pushing, pulling, drawing near.  My world is a spinning top that I dance upon…I lose nothing in these days, and fill up with every bit of dust and wind and swaying of spring.  Painting blue and dreaming green and loving red and lifting you up, setting you down, as you do for me.  We are real and awake. This life, this incomprehensible and infallible life, it is ours, it is each moment, it is. It just is.  You, I sleep easily beside. Me, you allow yourself to dream next to.  We, the intertwining of the dream and the reality and the next steps down the road.  Two years and I am whole.

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