In Lucid Dreams Poem by DM W
In Lucid Dreams
In lucid dreams that seem
To translate themselves,
Stringless kites hover across the heavens.
The spectres of care free artists
Sing madrigals to the sun.
In forests filled with dewfall,
The bright leaves & birds
Broadcast their longings;
In the sweetest of lexicons.
Death has no hold here.
A kind of subtle glory endures;
That enlightens diurnal consciousness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/2/2025 7:44:33 AM # 1.0.0
'Death has no hold here...' Beautiful!
Thanks Ruta...much appreciated!