DREAMS

The day is done, three times over.
I am wrung out.
My limbs are deliciously aching.
But my mind needs a tumble
When head touches pillow.
I give myself over to words and ideas.
Silly syllables, symbols enter my mind
Till my eyes become heavy
And close of themselves,
And self enters self,
Its own essence and secrets:
That tumbling rumbling
Madcap world of dreams,
And dreams within dreams
Where the world is the stage
For productions of the mind,
and  the world becomes one.
Now everything's possible.
The lame run, the blind see,
The numb feel, the dumb speak,
The deaf hear and earthbound fly.
Time often runs backwards.

Ute Kaboolian