"If you can dream it, you can do it."

If I sigh in the synaptic web
of my twisted DNA network,
a sleeping voice will wake up
and tell me about dreams.
The feathers of my gnawed wings
they explain to the days
that their today blurred, painted flights
colored the twilight.

If I go through that secret door, I'll see a face
that was lost in an amethyst abstract.
He will advance to meet me
talking to me between hisses and murmurs
with a gaze on
in a place of geometric earth
where he meditates, without moving, time.

I think I'm dead
or dreaming.

Mosaic of perception without body,
the disinherited mind.
I can't see out of my head.
Everything is linked inside,
dreams that daydream.
Even Love is a shared experience
by another Consciousness that connects everything
what it is and what it has been, to be.

I've got this whirlwind spinning,
swimming in my conscience.

Seas of an ocean of realities,
fragmented into dreams.
The half-truths that speak to hearts
in the being of the Origin, they whisper to me: Dream...
The dream is the seed of life,
life is a dream dream.

By Zeleira Cordero @zeleiracordero.

08/06/2019

Re edition of the original published on13/11/2018