Flying dream
this flying dream
on the tree of life’s wings
it is raining hard
and snowing
and it all turns into
moving roundness
all around round round
while a green snake slithers
up the tree of life
onto its wings
and all the it storms
the wind blows blows
all around my little island
The tree says:
I am a bird out of
your dream
the Quetzalcoatl of your unconscious
the phoenix of destiny
I stand in the raining
darkess
tossed by a tropic storm storm
testing my tensile strength
a serpents slithers up
up my trunk
out along my wings
below everywhere flowers
of a thousand forgotten dreams
peek out through the night
just like the cities that appear
out of the blackness
of the valley below
on those long night drives
darkness intimate
like a blanket
like this storm
--Lorena Wolfman (c) 2013
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