Poem: In Our Dreams, We are Extraordinary 

Scientists can’t explain
exactly why we need sleep, no matter how hard they study the waves in our brain cycles as we close our eyes.
The only logical explanation
is that our dreams are miraculous. The mystical and magical places we meet with bewilderment are otherworldly. We sip
dittany tea and relish the healing powers of heaven. Antiquitous faces painted young again. In our dreams, we live in sempiternal summer and frolic in transparent ocean water. We sail a silken sea and learn how to swim as we drown. We voyage around the world as our eyes stay shut. In an afterworld, we talk to our great grandmother and she explains
You are an enigma beyond
our universe. You
can do otherworldly things outside
your dreams. Don’t be daunted
by the clepsydra, time dripping away
in tears and sea tides.
Perhaps we will live outside our dreams
we won’t be haunted by the hollow graves of times.
we’ll let ourselves find extraordinary in the mundane.
we’ll live as if we’re dreaming and expect everything. We’ll be reminded of Israel from olive and of love from the winds.
Maybe, we’ll look up at the night
and discern a comet from shooting stars.
We sit on the edge of a ledge against the sea in the moonlight and watch the galaxy above rock back and forth as the Earth spins. You watch a starry graveyard,
empty masses in the universe twinkle in Orion, the Northern Cross, Cassiopeia, Capricorn. The night sky is a blueprint etched by history, some silent relics of life may lie beyond the stars, yet life, spreadeagled across a frame of dirt, reminds you of time.

Time’s canvas splattered with so many quiet things, like a Jackson Pollock painting,
and you realize no dream of yours painted this masterpiece.