Liquid Dreams ♥️💛💚

The atoms of the ceiling have begun to lose their grip,

Transforming into liquid pearls that shimmer, slide, and drip.

They pool upon the carpet in a sea of chrome and wine,

Where jellyfish made out of light and static intertwine.

The floor is but a memory, a ghost of solid wood,

As I drift upward through the space where once the rafters stood,

Finding myself a traveler in a storm of spinning glass,

Where every shard contains a life that’s yet to come to pass.

​The clock upon the mantelpiece has melted into sand,

Spilling golden centuries across my outstretched hand.

Time is not a narrow road, but a vast and blooming rose,

Where every petal is a day that opens and then close.

I hear the color orange—it’s a brassy, ringing bell,

Echoing through the corridors of a spiraling, pearled shell;

I see the scent of jasmine, weaving ribbons through the air,

Braiding through the nebula that’s tangled in my hair.

​The stars are silver thumbtacks holding up the heavy night,

But the backing is beginning to dissolve in waves of white.

Everything is breathing now; the walls, the wind, the stone,

A symphony of vibration played on skin and nerve and bone.

My ego is a paper kite with a snapped and frayed-out string,

Soaring past the borders of every named and tethered thing,

Watching as the "self" becomes a spray of solar dust,

Free of all the "should-be’s" and the "maybes" and the "must."

​Geometric patterns—fractal, infinite, and sharp—

Are plucked by unseen fingers on a celestial, humming harp.

Hexagons of sapphire light and diamonds made of frost

Rebuild the architecture of the moments that I’ve lost.

There is a bridge of rainbows built on pillars of pure sound,

Rising from the center of the deep and pulsing ground,

And as I walk its length, I find the secret in the glow:

The more you let the vision lead, the more you truly know.