My dream is a vagrant wind that rustles the autumn leaves like a train
The long industrious night tinges the sufferer of my soul
And desert sand fills my oblivious mind
Fires no longer warm me and water only thirsts me
I shall see my father lying in the river
And my mother shall sing to me in the skies
My soul is a silver church without the cross of your resonant star
My suffering seeps into the soil and my longing sails into the skies
And I shall humbly rest under the earth’s golden glow like an ocean waiting for your serenade of stars
Ideas with Ink 
WOW!! AJ, this poem is Special!! I love this one! Your creation has come from a depth that leaves the reader in a state of suspended resonance. Your wording is succinct and yet your expressed images are cosmic. You seem to have reached a new level of maturity. Your creations will be of benefit for humanity. I hope you are writing from a position of detachment looking at the condition of the worldly you, and not the worldly you expressing your condition. It seems all of the great artist write from personal experience. The really great ones do not let their experience adversely determine their destiny.
Keep up the good work, AJ. Looking forward to your next presentation. Your fan – ub.
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