Poets like me often hitch
a slow ride
On a passing ideal and,
between dreams
See another reality hiding
Behind rainy-day-grey,
which beams
Like wish-lights,
and guides to paradise.
Dreamland begins
where castles of moonstone
Stand glittering tall,
nothing shades the eyes
As waiting are silver strands
of unkown
Potential, which reach out
like soft sighs.
Fresh breezes,
coated with stardust appear
And dissolve fears,
taking the hand they fly
Higher through rainbowing
sky and deftly steer
In starlit velvety space
to the birthplace
Of poetic enlightenment,
then untie
Phrases of grace, plant ideas,
and re-trace
Starry way back to where
the muse says "Write."
Very delightful poem, I prefer the slow rides in this fastest World!