All Dreams Awake

A lake of dreams formed
around my words,
the inundation incomplete
‘til silence swallowed
all memory of sound when
grace blessed the days of my youth
without my notice
despite my prying and probing,
crafted carefully by my  curiosity –
or was it secret rebellion
against the gods
laughing behind walls
erected in falls?
and so, fled from me,
not by fleeing nor even by flight,
the whispered revealings
of a blind cause born in great distances
measured by the markings
of meaningful steps,
and from this great distance,
where substance is not yet,
I peer into myself for hints
of the grace by the which
all my inquiry can rest
in the sabbath of knowing
upon which, like a horizon of seeing,
the stars rise, and with them
all dreams awake.

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