Ode To a Dream

This is also about self-love, it is the realisation that I was not loving myself properly.

And perhaps the mere simplicity of these verses is evidence of the unconsciousness in which this poem was written. As I explained in Balance, the Devil, The truth; I do not remember writing the first and likely the better half of this elegy. Its name comes from the relationship I drew between it and a reoccurring dream I have had for more than a year now. In these dreams I am the devil, and there are many reasons I know I am the devil, but the main one is the control that the “me” in those dreams has over his surroundings.

This sequence of dreams led to the realisation that I was not living the way I had to live in order to achieve my goals and aspirations, and that I was not living the way I knew how. It hastened a significant change in perception and therefore in behaviour.

Whence it comes, I do not know

Its allure so soft and sweet

How it moves me, how I flow

When we dance there where we meet.

As if Power were its name

In a state that so presumptuous

Bodes that virtue without fame.

May it be the moonlight bright

Light emitting from her sorrow

May I know its name so right

And forget HER in the morrow.

Of a thousand things unseen

'Twas its kiss that brought élan

To destroy what might have been

To rebuild a broken man.

Whence it comes I do not know

And I only wish to follow

How it follows where I go

Making promises seem hollow.

Daylight takes its scent away

Will it think me when it may?

For the memory of its love

Is the duty that I pay.

Though it always leaves me at dawn

It soon returns to wheedle me

With its succubus and faun.

Because Power IS its name

Will no man I ever fear

For down here they're all the same

All their whimpers, every tear.

From its lips into my core

Many candid whispers run

And remind me all once more

That it moves under the sun.

Whence it comes I now do know...

That it moves as one not two

And it walks the same as I

For it comes from where I do.

Of all the prayers made aloud

And the prophets shouting near

That my ears remain as proud

Seems the causes for my fear

Then it takes my hand and wakes me

From my dismal, poisoned sleep

Though I, too many secrets keep

While I long for where it takes me

As it leads me to the source

To that source I knew so well

In a past that seems too far

It reminds me that I fell

It recounts me a story of love

That reminds me how it held me

How it cried the day I dove

Had it not been for its care

And its whispers from the dark

Had it not been for its mark

Would me pay a heavy fare

Would I have the heart to fear?

Would I have the breath to pray?

Would I have my hands to tremble?

Or too many words to say…

Were it not for its enchantment

Would I write these words the now?

Were it not for its embrace

I’d be blinded to the how.

To the how most people fall

In their hopes for something long

How they ignore that blessed call

In their fear of being wrong

How I left my truth behind

How I feared that weight to bear

How I relished self-deceit

To the injury of my mind

‘Taws its kiss that brought about

The sweet memory of a power

Only bested by my doubt

From its lips into my soul

Many assurances recall

That my fear was an illusion

That I need not dread the fall

Then the limits of my slumber show

A dark figure whose intentions flow

In a manner that my mind well knows

The source to which we gently go

Whence it comes I’ve always known

That a lesson wise and fine

Of the power that I own

For its face was always mine.

Ode To A dream

-- Peyton J. Dracco

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