A collective reverie

of time and place is perhaps a definition that could be applied to a connected world of sleeping people. I've always wondered about our spirit when we rest and how it may rise wandering into foreign thoughts and experiences. Is it possible for our mind's being to enter the small but intricate universe of another dreamer? I would put an affirmative response to that possibility. I would even go further and say this might be an innate occurence in the psyche of artistic people. Constantly driven to create, they are always seeking inspiration. That need transcends a body in slumber and takes on an energtic character of its own. As a woman poet, I would call such an entity, "The Wanderess", a female voyager who slips into the imagination of others and then employs that material to compose her own text of life. She is a spirit that borrows while fueled by the curious spark of the inner self.

The Wanderess

In soft darkness, she awakens
borrowing a gown of muslin
from the moon. Her fingers lift
a candle from the cupboard
and then she heads into strange
gardens of sleep, trespassing
on other lives as they dream.
Their drama will be stolen
and stationed in lines that shape
her next poem. Tomorrow
is already laid-out, a flask
of sepia ink, swan feather and bed sheets
longing to inspire more thoughts
on a love affair she will write as her own.