speak, I beseech you;
reel me in like a silver fish
tease me with a genie's last wish.

deceive me, morning or evening--
I'll believe you, dreamkeeper.

leave me freer than the free seas
make me a child on the seer's knees. No--
make me an orbweaver,
hanging on a silver thread
a dreamweaver over the seer's orb,
seeing the threads of now and then and back again
scrying the living and the dead.

I seek the fluidity, the solidity of wakesleep
the blood of solidarity with my kin
strings on strings on strings weaving you to me to him
weaving now to tomorrow to back again.

[Featured image by Muhd Asyraaf on Unsplash]