The Dreamer

The Dreamer
by N. G. Tolentino
from the Malate Literary Journal

a sudden blackness came over him
dousing his spirits like sand on fire
he found himself sometimes drowsing
in suffocating heat to the steady, familiar
rhythms and voices that gave them tongue
faces lurked in the shadows, swirling
like figures obscured in snow
playing plaintive songs
of truth and direction
moving like mountaineers, sure-footedly
from crevice to crevice on the mountain face.

only when the lazy breeze
ruffled curtains and brought in day
he stood with half-shut eyes
reflecting on the dream, he was
the prisoner drained by own personal struggles
and in his reflection he remains
a violated body, armless in the dark
headless against the shadows
helpless to the world.

he might have tried to live the questions
into some distant answers
yet all was a dream
blighted before touch.

(i, dreamweaver)

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