Two lay side by side:
one dreamed a moon,
one dreamed a sun:
when done a heaven-
dance was made.

Now light was doubled;
now it was snuffed;
and any Thing that skipped
or seemed inanimate Was
that dream’s reflection:

white-washed morning
into whose epiphanies
the sleepers stiffly rise
fog in their eyes
what was that? what?

(Oh, dream with me longer if you can:
for us, the domed forever’s held suspended
on the stem of a single flower that you tended
plucked and gently placed into my hand)

All that’s made’s unmade:
dark accompanies the spark:
silence carries music’s seed
as much as any sound
or anyone’s desire to speak:

The candle’s weak:
the flame is strong:
if dreaming draws a heaven
who would question we were right?
who could say that we were wrong?

Please visit the original image, a.q.u.a by Lúcia P @ deviantart.com

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