A poem on how dreams can be an invitation, illuminating the path of where we are next drawn. — What if
the most real layer
is here
in the dream,
a ripple through
reach to surface
upon waking? A saint,
the kiss,
a doorway
through stone alley —
a monastery to the light
or curve
of whale’s back,
beckoning
a glide at night
guide
reminder of where to flow
beyond words,
connecting
with primordial sound
across time and space.