by Nathalie Boisard-Beudin
Step into the purple garden,
Where Night reigns alone
And breathes its notions
Into the haunts of your mind.
Marvel at what It has created
That wasn’t there hours before.
A whole kingdom that might be yours
If only you can reach and reap
While avoiding its snares
Dance in between shadows
Skipping from light to darkness
Remember you mustn’t get sucked
Into some other dimension;
Poised in a perilous equilibrium
Less the thorns that crawl
And the tendrils that burn
Drag you into the gloom
Where sleep roams in tattered drags
And nightmares freeze on your breath.
Reality isn’t there,
In this shady theatre,
Not even hidden in the wings
Waiting to pounce on the unsuspecting lurker.
But neither is Dream,
That evanescent trickster:
In this place, you are on your own.
Bite into the mist that once was light
And is now mere shredded shadows,
Taste its sour shape, its gritty texture,
More regret than sorrow:
Un-reaped green grapes
Shining through time and memories,
A bitter flame sputtering in the dark.
Only by fighting Night
Can you expect to gain her respect
And acceptance into her realm.
Bring out the sword of your laughter
Slice rents of mirth into the gloom.
Crush those droopy flowers
That breathe an amethyst despair.
Only then can you expect
Tomorrow to burn again.
A future to wake into.