14
Aug 13

Dream Visit

Dear Dad,

I dreamed of you today, after many years.  But then you already knew that since you were there…

What dialogue are we having now, across chasms, through electrons, sustained keys struck on a piano on days when you would leave for your itinerant journeys…

Through layers of mist, as I put pencil to paper, the image of the dream still lingers…

Sometimes, I wonder where do loved ones go, where do the tears we shed go once shed.  When souls are ripped and torn to shreds — yanked from slumber, with nothing but ambient nostalgia to drown in, does anyone witness?   Do you remember?

If I reach through the membrane of this matrix would I be able to embrace you, as I closed your eyes on that when you left your body?

So we speak now, as if nothing ever changed or remained…through fragile strands of consciousness, tangled with unconscious storied trellises…

But then across an incomprehensible gulf something deep stirs, a hand, a familiar gesture steals the veneer, lifts the fog and we see at long last standing before us truth elusive as ever — yet there it is, in its immutable presence, facing us as our own reflection…

I reach out to touch the vaporous shimmer.

But nay, ’tis but mine own hope that beckons me,
mine own delusions haunting me, in profound solitude.

I’m ageless and abandoned to one singularity, suspended in passing eternity.

I simply yearn for the shades of duality with which I discern mortality, and you.

Thank you for the visit.

Your Son,
Always