Crimson Dreams

Crimson Dreams

I walk beyond the moon to touch the stars,

In waking dreams beneath a blood-red sun.

Sleek, silver ocean waves, on soft sand bars,

Break silently, though my heart feels each one.

Magenta clouds dash through deep purple skies,

On winds that whisper questions to themselves;

To which the burnished, argent sea replies,

By dashing silver arms on ancient shelves.

Then, shining through a ruby red twilight,

I see glistening mists of silver rain,

Adrift upon the ghost wind, all alight

With tiny crimson flames from Hell’s domain.

I cast myself aloft, expecting pain;

I wake at dawn, alive, and home again.

Mick McKellar

June 2014

Sometimes, I dream in technicolor, cinemascope, and 3D. I don’t know what they mean, but the images haunt my life, my waking dream.

Mick