My dreams will tease me
with soft feathers,
they tickle my nose as
I snooze into the
dark mornings.
They offer brief
glimpses into potential
futures, lend sweet
scents of possible
lovers, express hidden
rage and fear, depict
intense wars with my
father, gorgeous ideas
which stem from the petals
of bright spring flowers,
colored eggs which crack up
like teenage girls in fits
of joyous laughter, it all
goes together in one great
swirl of emotion and feeling.
They ask of me, my dreams,
"What do you love?"
I have not the answer,
but I do enjoy marvelling
at the sheer poetic beauty
in their method of questioning.
I am so enamoured by my
mystical teacher, that I can
not respond when she closes
her mouth, discontinuing her
lovely speech.
I simply say, "do go on."
The dreams are my friends,
and also my superiors.

Wherefor art thou, my dreams?

Whatever the solution, still
I love thee with all the energy
my heart and soul can muster.

Continue to baffle me.
Cast me into confusion.
Happily shall I puzzle
over thee, for eternity.