As the larger sky above
is part air, part cloud,
life transitions into death.
Darkness is dispelled by light.
In a dream you gave me your hand,
I saw your fingers stretch out for mine.
I felt your distant presence
through the pressure in my heart.
When we rise each day in life,
the idea of dying is but a dream.
When we are dead life is
but a dream upon a dream.
Light to dark, we wake, we sleep
we move by stillness into eternity.
Death is more than dying,
Living is more than life.
Who is the dreamer, dreaming?
***
- Mountain Poet
Copyright 2005 - Written after my twin brother died and came to see me in a dream.
Winner of Editor's Choice Award 2006
Art: Unknown
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