Before I was blind there were dreams.
But seeing my dreams
before I could see, depended
on how much you could really see.
Blind before birth,
and what you have asked of me.
Having my, our, hearing dreams-
your perception
is sound, sound that is seen;
left more unsaid about me.
I still see to see in my dreams
as one
where I'm still alive.
What they must contain,
the colors within.
and sound, I can feel: taste
and touch.
To remember one dream
that one special dream, I still dream
when awake I can see,
when my wife I first met
and how she will look forever.
Copyright © James McLain | Year Posted 2018
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sound becomes movement and vice versa. Love becomes faithfulness and vice versa in a surrealistic world, where our thoughts, in ascesis, are alive. They climb up to fall again in the fires, in the waters, in the lands, and through the air to touch our kneeling spirit during prayers.- enjoyed your wonderful, inspiring poem. Voted 10.