The Dream Voyage

It's not fair of me to keep you here,

when you have worlds to explore,

and an infinity to soar.

 

I took you on my dory trip,

over a cold gray lake, from my hoary space,

across the lake to places half remembered;

where the high tide covered the lower steps,

and you came with me as I climbed them anyway,...

and my feet never touched the snow.

 

Oh it's not fair to keep you here,

if you want you should go.

 

In my dreamland, the waves are small, the water pure.

But it's always half dark, the sun not here,

Weighed by duties, weighed by sin, yes I've missed my mark.

and yet I see where I'm going and where I've been.

 

I know you see with me.

You may not be able to help me navigate,

but with you by my side I find the way.

 

Oh, it's not fair to keep you here,

you have eternity to visit, if you want you should go.

Though I know you know I miss you so.

 

Yet you come with me, I feel your essence,

it resolves as you, when I look,

though it's a mere blind spot too.

 

I try to hug you, and my hands come free.

Yet I know you remain with me.

We crossed the lake, we came to a place,

where half remembered steps, took us up to the top.

And from the platform, we could see the lake.

 

Oh half remembered lights;

souls bobbing on the water, or on the shore,

so dark that some bob and some are fixed.

and the wind blows so fresh, it's hard to tell which is which,

the lights are moving, or the wind makes them appear so.

 

What makes it magic, is that all that is half so,

If there were sunlight, maybe they'd be only birds,

or just the magic of the night.

Here you are beside me, though I know that is impossible to be.

You should be soaring, you should be free.

you should not be bound to me, unless you want to be.

 

I wake up, and you still haunt my soul,

not with fear or anger,

Just sadness and pain;

the heart hurts, here in it's place again,

 

I long to soar with thee.

I have to let go, not because I fear thee,

but because I know you are here with me,

and i have things to do before we can be.

 

So, the dream, it fades, reality returns.

It's summertime, and the lake is far away.

There is a drought, the lake is gone,

and dreams of yesterday, fade like a song,

leaving dust where once there was water,

where the radio is no longer turned on.

and the lake is all dried up.

 

Yesterday was a rough day,

today will be better.

 

Christopher Hartly Holte

written July 12 2012