The monks are dreaming of you- a poem, 9/20/15

The monks are dreaming of you
Ensconced in light, bathed in sound,
The monks are dreaming.

Orange robes, snow capped scene,
A monk throws his head back, laughing,
Dreaming in daylight

Smoke from across a watery globe
His laughter, uncontrollable,
Waves of monotonous droning on

As you, of the people,
Of computers and cities
Of plastic rules
Live by the card, die by the card,
A forest of souls lost for trees
Statues of birds and no song on the airs
Struggle to breathe
Thinking everyone else's horrible thoughts
Thinking you imagined your life yourself
And what you imagined was never this
Never this life you actually lead

And somewhere your ancient soul remembers
That moment the star that was you, and me, and you again for you are me,
The moment it burst out of the furious silence of space
Into endless particles of dust and storm
And this dust became ladies and men
And boys and birds and gold and cards and rules and laws and 

Somewhere

The monk is laughing,
The sun leaving his body,
And in his breath he yet dies
And in his death still he dreams

And in his dreams,
He looks into a mirror upon your own eyes
And begs you to love him in return.

by Erin 

September 20th, 2015