One of my stream-of-consciousness poems I rediscovered today. The photo is of Garibaldi Lake in Garibaldi Provincial Park in British Columbia, Canada, my husband and I visited in 2018.

I slipped into the ultra-conscious reminisce as tales they weaved
and told their story to me in my half-awakened slumber
pillow lumpy went unfelt as the light from streetlights spun
and grew into the lighted canopy of trees green and lawn
spreading far across through houses where I stood.

Having left my bed in this state, and having wondered where
I was, I knew when I saw the cat, black and lithe, that I was home.
Yet, not the home I once knew, but a new home, a home of
rainbows clasping every drop of dew and channels of thought
streamed in sound that became shapes, rectangular purple and
black squares and I awoke again into the land I sought.

It felt to me as though I drifted into a world once known,
yet unknown to this dreamer, others traveling in hurried pace,
intent on reaching someplace which I beheld within my
knowing that came as one who listens in their being-ness
knows all too well, it comes, but it can go, too, if not heeded.

Let me tell you how it goes: it is thus that I know these places
and you wonder as you stare into the realm of your un-knowing-
ness, how I can believe what cannot be seen and yet I see and feel
this world within and around our seen world for it is real and
you and I are not illusion only that we hold ourselves in doubt.

Open up your eyes that see within the truth and you will see, too,
and know and feel that which you have previously mis-understood
in your blinders and your lattes and your streaming news that
has your senses trained to horror not the bliss I tell you of and hold
the sight between this and that, this world and the next, this sight
and that which comes in dreams, it is in-between.

Carry the dream forward and walk the path of where your feet
have always known where to step and when to leap, like guides
who lead as you trust them to take you where they have been
before, your feet know the way, simply let them go and let your
heart ride them like a beacon on the point of land you see from
the shore and, yet, feel as one on the sea.

Do not fall and never fail, for that is not an option in this land
of dreams that take us galloping 'cross plains as one messenger
to another said to me as I found myself in the land of water and
trees glistening in a light surreal beyond that which my senses
have ever known.