• Posted by: barry c
  • Created: February 22, 2015
  • 0

The earth was dreaming about a moon not yet

born, when I entered its dream as a ghost

with the moon in my eyes in silhouette

held by the creator who joins me to toast

the birth of a new moon that dreams of a 

sun collapsing. The earth, moon and sun dream

in unison giving me form, I whistle 

forever sounds of fire dying, embers teem,

welding an impulse within the progeny.

Paintings and compositions allude in

multitude to resurrection. Adroitly

the creator completes his masterpiece, herein

a man on a cross. I will bring my progeny 

to fruition and amend an impulse eternally.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Related entries

The Woman Who

This peom is about a woman in my life, who is suppose to be there for me but is not.


Dreams, desires, id and ego.


Dreams, desires, id and ego.


This poem is about our failure to feel fulfilled by our constant consumption of life.

Untold Secret of the Sky

Read it and find out.