The Mystics Dream

In the quiet aftermath of prayer's embrace,

A Mystic finds his gaze upon the desert's face.

But dreams, like rivers, flow beyond the sand,

To oceans vast, not of this land.

 

Awake yet not, within a dream's soft fold,

He sails the space, the stars, the cold.

An ocean not of water, but of endless night,

Where infinity's door swings wide, bathed in celestial light.

 

Turning back, a vision strange and serene,

His sleeping form, in tranquility unseen.

A hand reaches out, a journey to awake,

Touches forehead, a ripple in the dream's lake.

 

A cool, light caress, self to self, entwined,

The Mystic rubs his head, leaving sleep behind.

But hark! A drum beats, a call from afar,

Above the horizon, where dreams and realities are.

 

A moon rises, not where the sun's rays meet,

But in the night's heart, its gravity sweet.

Overwhelming, vast, a presence felt in bone,

He turns to its power, its silent moan.

 

Upon this lunar throne, a vision does appear,

A woman in silken gowns, drawing near.

Her dress, a comet's tail, across the sky it streams,

Sewing stars and dreams, in the fabric of dreams.

 

She twirls, and the cosmos dance in her wake,

Stars fall to the ocean, for eternity's sake.

The Mystic, in awe, reaches through the void,

A distance immense, yet by longing destroyed.

 

In a moment where time and space entwine,

Her hand meets his, a touch divine.

Pulled into embrace, a kiss deep and vast,

A moment of bliss, in eternity cast.

 

Awakening, the room, the mundane calls,

7am, the clock on the wall.

Light streams, curtain’s part, a new day's birth,

The sound of the world, far from the heavens and earth.

 

Yet in his heart, a memory, a dream's sweet trace,

Of oceans of space, and a woman's embrace.

A kiss that bridged the gap between night and day,

In the Mystic's dream, where all worlds lay.