Dreams

As another busy week ends, I consider life.

In the night the luminous petals spread, their soft blue light easing the watchful night to dreams. Their center stalks invitingly reach out to pollinate. The nocturnal flower known by no human eye abides in a deep recess high up in a mountainous cliff where at times an overflow of rain, a swift current streaming down into the gulf only to be dispersed into a veil of pale mist, waters. And all about that high cave algae and other slimy green growths gather. But in the darkness blooms a sacred light, a soft blue light, which is the light of dreams. And that pollen, like faery dust, into the air is borne, dusting the world in dreams. From its glowing white center comes the dreams, the blue petals glowing sleepily in the spreading green.