Solitaire Sunrise

Cylindrical shaped

Bruises in the liquid soul

Intact within feelings

Colors and flow

Slow down beauty 

Slow down smiles

Slow your wheels

through the miles

Covered through 

The path you chose

Getting wetter 

Getting close

Damp and dark

Mud and snow

Walking through the

Mountain roads

shaking hands

with mountain ghosts

Sunrise with

his lover

Day dreaming 

Day dreaming. 

The Reverie: Chapter one.

Within this world they had no name for, was this particular conscious mind with the least appreciated art. He had the right eye and the right ears to connect to different vibrations , listened to good music played along in other's dreams really well but none could empathize with his. The colors he saw had started giving a depth to the basic foundation this world was made of. the glittery dust was feeling weak before his eyes and his eyes only. He began questioning everything he could but he was trained so well in attaching himself to the dream he survived in. he tried and tried to express it through his art but none could recognize the meaning within. What could they make of abstract art with no particular rhythm to it. His songs weren't melodious but just beats without a pattern. The concept of leaving patterns was declared as giving in to the system. The system was designed around the insecurities for people in many different ways. "Safety" was on the top of the list. 

He sat next to this river of energy, much like water but not as affected by gravity. It Changed color every time someone drank from it Or if any foreign glittery dust with a different vibration fell into it. It came from the minds of the highest order of consciousness in that particular dream. They were to sit in places away from other dreams and had become so good at it that their vibrations became tangible, changing forms. The river was a way for them to spread love among all, but the fact that you can only receive once you want to, drink when you are thirsty, the river became an open source of warmth and love. The river wasn't restricted to minds within those dreams but flowed through all dimensions because only love and light could penetrate everywhere and its absence was bitter. "Bitterness is as important" he thought. 

A branch of a tree lowered to heal his spine that had been feeling stressed. The plants in this world were perhaps of a giving nature. They had understood giving was not from something to something, but only a matter of support. There weren't any hospitals either, there was no need, intention and touch was enough to replenish love in one's self. 

Next to the stone where he sat, grew some color changing grass which he pulled off the ground and smelled. It was alive still, and had whispers from other dimensions. he smelled them and they smelled of fragrances that weren't of his dream. It was good grass. He took it home. He took out a pipe that was given to him by his father to be used in times of contemplation. I had a crystal from another dream to confuse consciousness and shake the dream he'd live in all the time. A reminder of where he came from. The state of nothingness. 

The Majority of dreamers wouldn't agree or even try the grass or the pipe. Fear of the unknown does that to the mind, takes it over and turns it black in color; Not the subtle blackness which comforts one at night, but the one that haunts and gives freedom for the fears to grow. He wasn't one of them. He understood that questioning everything was necessary and that he was a dreamer after all.   

The reverie: Introduction

There was a new world found. It was made of the same stuff dreams are made of. It had the similar dimensions that we have, only that it was flexible. The understanding of that world was also pretty similar to ours since it came from us and our collective consciousness. The only boundaries it had on it’s map were made up of the space between the two dreams. It was colored with different emotions and different shades of different colors pertaining  different situations. Pale yellow for  monotony, purple for celebration and so on. However, the people in it knew that everyone sees different colors. Not one person could tell what yellow meant to someone else. There wasn’t any source of comparison there. There was only acceptance. People had the same state of mind as the one when you wake up. The amount of acceptance one has when one wakes up is immense. There isn’t much judgment but there is witnessing. People fed on warmth of each other. There wasn’t any food to survive on. The concept of food wasn’t there. The five elements that make up our world are what give the whole need of eating or feeding on something else so as to replenish. In that world, everything was made of that glittery dust getting together to form different shapes. The question was who were these people witnessing everything? But the answer never mattered to anyone surprisingly. 

Since people fed on warmth and love, the only thing that cut the monotony was art which inspired warmth and love. Some preferred contrasts in their art, some liked consistency, some liked wild expressions.

Poverty was of different kind here. Lesser the colors you see, lesser the art you can recognize, lesser the vibrations you connect to, lesser the music you could hear. The idea was to magnify witnessing, but regular art sent them in their own little trip restricting them to boundaries and to the same dream. People would become so comforted within those boundaries that they wouldn’t want it to end. They fought their hearts out to stretch them as much. They feared what would happen after the boundaries got over. The space between the dreams sent shivers down their spine, much like death. 

Attic

Clouds become

Darker 

Become deeper

Become stronger

 

Rivers rush harder

Rush inwards

Rush downwards

 

Skies become

Gloomy

Become brighter

Become higher

 

Sea becomes louder

Becomes wilder

Sending chills

Down my spine

No reason

Some more wine

I'm silent

I'm scared

I'm worried

That I dared

Layered 

With laughter

With tears

Stairs

Going up

to my head's

Attic 

Someone switch the light on

It's dark in here. 

Acid

Brooding
Shooting flowers
Shooting stars
With dreams
In reality
The duality
Is false

Breaking
Breaking chimes
Filling wines
In perfectly round
Glasses
Glasses made of
Mischief and blood
Studded in
Perfectly round rings
That always are
Too small for her fingers
Given
Given away
As a sign of love
Signs only point
To the places
That they know

Know
Knowing is an art
Like perceiving
Listening
Seeing is
It involves souls
And spirits
That fall out of glasses
And into your minds
And let loose
The suppressed

Suppressed
Are the volcanos
Once dormant in time
Following rules
Like fools
Reflecting on their screens
With wonder while they
Read this

Read this
Read that
Eat this
Eat that
See this
See that
That's all they'd say
Pouring on you
Like the rain
That gets you sick
The first rain
Acid rain

Acid.