In a reoccurring dream
From childhood
I can fly
Not on wings or capes or rockets
On not-thought
Indirection being the only direction
Up and down shakily I practice
Time passing in the dream like a dream
Until I rise and sustain
High above the world
Master of horizons
Questions push their way in
Where ought I go
Destination inviting thought
Thought feeding not-flight
I dip
Goal by goal to the ground
Not-thought slipping into not-flight
Stuck to the ground
I wake
-T. Weeks
(A response to remembering a childhood dream)
Life Immense 