unwelcomed.

yesterday the wind blew
and in that moment I knew

I am unwelcome in my own dream.

my laughter spills onto a page
for which there is no room
my blinded eyes see stars
or is it shadows?

I am unwelcome in my own dream

they look and stare, look and stare
how dare
she?
who she be?

Offered nothing to eat nor drink,
just as simple meal of mixed motives.

I see what I have never known, dream of what I
cannot own
try to grab for that elusive
silver chord
only to find I have to reach
to hold on to my own soul.

I am unwelcome in my own dream

the rainbow formed by the mist of my own wishes
has split
six ways to Sunday
leaving me with my threaded needle of gold
and ash instead of a pot.

I am unwelcome in my own dream.

I've cried tear oceans
scaled molehill mountains
dug virtue valleys
with visions of sugarplums dancing in my songs
simply wanting; but complexly willing to take
a cold floor in heaven
over a warm bed in hell

Is it that the fight in my face has fallen?
Is it that the only way to be loved
is to be
the last one
left?


the awning of the line
it is
knowing vs. believing
smiling vs. laughter

doggedly beating on the door
begging to be let in
on the loneliest night of my life

I am unwelcome in my own dream
after I poured my soul into rock
and pulled my peace into the wood
Even the splinters I caressed lovingly

I am unwelcome in the dream I molded
carved, built, restored
but somehow do not fit.
because builders seldom inhabit
their houses

and then a still small voice says
but what is the dream
without the dreamer?
what is sleeping without dreams?