Your vision will become clear
only when you can look into your own heart.
Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.
-- Carl Jung
Half awake, near dark
trying to recall what my mind was trying to tell me
dreams of flying, as I remember sliding down a hill
dreams of swimming underwater, as I recall so many afternoons sitting on a dock
standing at the bottom of a long staircase
looking up towards the top of a lighthouse
An art gallery with blank walls and empty benches
A symphony, from an orchestra that no longer plays music
the voice of someone I talked to for hours
All of these are echoes, all of them waves
of an ocean I cannot see across