Prophetic Dream

Riding through the Milky Way,
On Persian rug of blue and white,
Adorned with tassels cheery-gay,
Bright silver bells clanging away.

Upwards, downwards, sideways too,
Ducking meteors, planets bright,
I steered my jingling jalopy through,
In search of wondrous sounds and sights .

I landed on a strange grey mass,
Where perfumed vapour thrilled the air,
It lured me in to a tinted glass lair,
With the floor covered in golden grass.

No weird creatures greeted me,
As I explored my frontier new,
So,I trotted along, back to my carpet,
And,oh, inside me a wondrous joy grew,
For, on my rug, I found a carved casket,
In it, gilded books of every form and hue.

I did, then, wake up and ponder incessantly,
As to what my illusionary adventure signified,
For wise people before my day said fervently
That in every mental vision,
A priceless lesson is sure to hide.

Thus, they tossed and tired me,
Sleepless, irksome and bothery nights,
For I could not rest unperturbed,
Until I knew what my dream was meant to be.

Finally, on a quaint and prophetic day,
The import that lurked within my outer space flight,
Seemed simple, true and full moon bright,
Which until then was a cloudy new moon night.

It was a visionary cue to my calling,
To a life of voluminous word and wordy volume,
Among chapbooks,anthologies and mysterious lays,
My sensibility arose to a new level in mental space,
To a new sense of being,of ominous revelations,
To an identity in verse merging in to words.