Crimson Dreams

Dream the First

Upon the crimson plain I dash,
With heart alight and spirit brash,
Leaping high with joyous thrall,
Beneath the moon's cerulean shawl.
Its azure glow casts shadows long,
While restless birds croon jazzy songs.

The wind, a dancer, twirls with glee,
A joyful, wild, and free marquee,
Otters glide through dust-laced streams,
In this land of waking dreams.
Cloud whales drift in skies so vast,
Their hues of white and green amassed,
And olive trees, in orange flame,
Stand proud and tall, ever the same.

A sun of black draws forth the night,
Its absence of light a curious sight,
My hand, it quakes with a sword that hums,
A numbing tune to which it succumbs.
I sprint with purpose, my goal defined,
By phantasms guarded, through mists entwined:

A jewel of worth, closely kept.
Through shadowed plains, I've deftly stepped.
Battles fought in the darkened expanse,
Each move, each parry, an intricate dance.
Stymied, halted, yet I persist,
With life near spent, I clench my fist.

The treasure gleams within my sight,
Its guarded shimmer a beacon bright.
Yet as I near, my heart does scream,
For reality shatters this wondrous dream.
A clarion, a harsh awake,
From epic quests, I must now break.

But fear not, for dreams do weave,
Into our souls, they never leave.
The crimson plains will call once more,
For epic tales and mythic lore.
So hold fast to dreams of jeweled delight,
For in our hearts, they burn ever bright.

Dream the  Second

In dreams' embrace, we find retreat,
From life's swift pace, its drumming beat.
The crimson plains stretch wide and far,
Beneath the watch of every star.
And there I stand, with treasure bright,
Within my weary, grasping sight.

The guarded gem, with luster keen,
Amidst the shadows, barely seen.
A phantasm's ward, a spectral guise,
Obscures the prize from prying eyes.
Yet onward still, my spirit yearns,
For questing's fire within me burns.

Through trials many, and dangers vast,
Each moment fleeting, each breath my last.
The blackened sun withdraws its glow,
As if in mourning, or in woe.
The humming sword, now still and cold,
Has tales of valor, yet untold.

The otters' dance, a dusty swirl,
In twilight's grasp, they twist and twirl.
The wind dancers, with joyous cries,
Beneath the vast, unending skies.
Cloud whales sail, with grace they roam,
Within this dream, their airy home.

The olive trees, their branches spread,
Stand sentinel as I tread.
Their fiery hues, a beacon's call,
Within the dream, they never fall.
And I, a dreamer, bold and free,
Chase the jewel that beckons me.

The shadowed plain, a challenge wrought,
With every step, a battle fought.
Again, again, I'm pushed to brink,
Yet from the quest, I do not shrink.
Life's essence drains, but hope remains,
Within the dream, it still sustains.

A scream, a shout, a call to wake,
From slumber deep, a harsh, rude shake.
The telephone, its chime, a knell,
That breaks the spell, with jarring swell.
Yet still I know, when night does fall,
The crimson plains will softly call.

For dreams are more than fleeting shade,
They're where our deepest hopes are made.
And in that realm of endless night,
Our fantasies take winged flight.
So hold them close, those dreams of yore,
Deep in our hearts, they're something more.

A treasure trove of tales untold,
Of crimson plains and jewels bold.
Of moonlit nights and shadowed lands,
Where dreamers reach with outstretched hands.
And though the call may come to wake,
Those dreams are ours, and ours to make.

We need but dream, both you and I,
To share the ever-dreaming sky.
For in our hearts, these tales reside,
With each new dream, they're amplified.
In dreams where we are truly free,
To leap for joy, to dance, to be.

Mick McKellar
May 2024