Dreaming

                                     Dreams, like caterpillars – pupa to butterfly, butterflies in flight.
                                     Dreams, like creation – become the world we chose to inhabit.
                                               
                                     Dreams, one devises – are but the past, the present, the future.
                                     Dreams, one devises – are but yesterdays and today’s events.

                                     Dreams, are files – subconscious, surrealistic glass doors.
                                     Dreams, are psychic – windows into the past, into the future.

                                     Dreams, give hope – for the here and now, for the other side.
                                     Dreams, are but journeys – rehashing many of life’s issues.

                                     Dreams, reoccurring – unresolved experiences, over and over.
                                     Dreams, for some – the need for power, the need to control.

                                     Dreams, for some – the need for peace, happiness and love.
                                     Dreams, for some – the need to give, to share, to be a part of.

                                     Dreams, dissipate – dissolving like multi-faceted snowflakes.
                                     Dreams, decay – become fallen, autumn leaves in transition.

                                     Dreams, awake, shatter – like beautiful, fragile crystal.
                                     Dreams, awake, shatter – ones reality, in the light of day.

                                     Dreams, disintegrate – a dilapidated, rusted out old auto.
                                     Dreams, come to not – for they are dead end, gravel roads.

                                     Dreams, an adventure – take one on so many journeys.
                                     Dreams, a black hole – from which some cannot escape.

                                     Dreams, then again – are like rose petals covered in dew.
                                     Dreams, reflecting – refracting every colour of a rainbow.

B.  J. “ A ” 2

May 17^th, 2018

Friday April 13th 2018

Has become a day for remorse.
Life's journey, on a new course

The Grim Reaper, knocked on his door.
Life, as he once knew it, to be never more.

Hopes dashed upon the jagged edges of life
as this reality fills these hours with rife

thoughts, this life has reached an end.
An adventure around the next bend,

An exploration into a transition. 
A Soul, from this plane, in submission

as it sojourns from all the pain,
body, spirit suffered on this plane.

Is this Friday April 13th, a bad luck day?
or one we look forward to and pray?,

that this loss should not be of sadness,
but reason for celebration and gladness.

For now, he may go back to the essence
of what he once was and in colescence,

become one with himself, without regret
for those that plagued, caused him to fret

as he traversed this, his last road
without the weight of his heavy load.

This coming July, will we come to smile?, 
as we recall and walk with him , his last mile.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
Fond memories, carry we must

as we all come together and reminis 
about a Father, an Uncle, a man we will miss!

Well these memories evoke?
Will throats tighten and choke

back a torrent of  tears,
now, to alleviate the fears.

Friday the 13th, 2018, the year
mortality, touched, was so near.

B. J. “A” 2
April 13th, 2018