<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=524135" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Dream Space Of The Mind</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I do not have a dream space <br>as do other people I know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My dream space <br>is not a room, <br>nor could it ever be <br>despite the richness, <br> <br>or tastefulness, <br>or simplicity; <br>or style, <br>or colour scheme, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">or tidiness, <br>or untidiness; <br>or love attention <br>that had been lavished<br> <br>upon this artificially <br>constructed space.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where I would rest <br>relax rejuvenate myself <br>upon the close of day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To me home is where <br>I hang my head <br>any clean restful dwelling <br>can serve this purpose.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Perhaps this <br>is a side effect <br>or residue <br>by product, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">of travelling across <br>the world and back <br>several times, when </div><div style="margin:10px 0">young to a certain degree.<br> <br>But mainly <br>this is a love <br>of natural <br>unspoilt wilderness, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">an appreciation <br>of great spirit <br>that invests <br>such places, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">where my spirit <br>runs free <br>flies upon <br>an untamed wind. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">This does not mean <br>that I do not <br>appreciate a well <br>furnished home. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In fact I do <br>have put down roots <br>several times, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">furnished <br>these dwellings <br>in an elegant </div><div style="margin:10px 0">though simple <br>Mediterranean style <br>upon the last <br>two occasions.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>So where then <br>is my own refuge <br>my well beloved <br>dream space? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not surprisingly <br>it encompasses <br>essential magic<br> <br>of nature <br>that flows <br>within me. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But my dream space <br>does not exist <br>and has not been </div><div style="margin:10px 0">constructed <br>on the imperfections <br>of the physical plane. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I walk between worlds, <br>see infinitely <br>past the surface, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">refuse to submit <br>to the dictates <br>of a materialistic world </div><div style="margin:10px 0">that grieves <br>the essence <br>of a spiritual reality </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I value, <br>cling to<br> <br>with an honour code <br>born in past ages. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>To me truth <br>the written word <br>are sacred. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">These are Buddhist <br>teachings <br>which I am aware of, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">yet I approach <br>such sentiments <br>from the perspective <br>of the artist, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">which predominately <br>lies dormant <br>within me. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">This is part <br>of my true nature, <br>my essential being </div><div style="margin:10px 0">that I cannot <br>compromise, <br>that which I know </div><div style="margin:10px 0">and need not explain <br>to those who follow <br>a path I rarely walk </div><div style="margin:10px 0">in this life <br>in this material age. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>My dream space <br>is in my heart, <br>in my soul, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">in the creative landscape <br>of my mind, <br>in the knowledge<br> <br>revealed to me <br>within supposedly <br>random laws of chance, <br> <br>given to those <br>that seek and knock <br>down the doors<br> <br>of wisdom painfully given.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>My dream space <br>is multi textural <br>contains limitless horizons </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I oft may walk <br>with all the smell, <br>taste, sight, sound, <br>touch, noise, vibrations </div><div style="margin:10px 0">which may merge <br>the rhythm <br>of my soul; with </div><div style="margin:10px 0">the music of the spheres, <br>or the harmony of the universe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>This is a magic <br>place revealed to me <br>through the heritage<br> <br>of ancestors <br>who embraced <br>such realms </div><div style="margin:10px 0">sought the truth <br>power beyond <br>that which more </div><div style="margin:10px 0">vision-less minds, <br>would define <br>as religion follow </div><div style="margin:10px 0">with rote ignorance. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I have called it <br>a magic place, <br>but in fact </div><div style="margin:10px 0">it is the one true reality </div><div style="margin:10px 0">hidden behind the curtain<br> <br>of this life we live <br>upon this earth. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is reality more in tune <br>to how God created it, <br>such knowledge is never </div><div style="margin:10px 0">given complete, <br>to any who walk <br>the mortal sphere. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">An occasional <br>glimpse <br>into the future </div><div style="margin:10px 0">into that which is invisible<br> <br>to most, <br>is merely <br>my birthright, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I remember the future dreamed <br>when it eventuates. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I can create <br>my own worlds within <br>my imagination.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I can create it <br>so that it is seen, <br>felt, touched, smelt by me. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">This I do often <br>with my most perfect <br>thought which this world </div><div style="margin:10px 0">with present materialistic <br>values is not perceptive of. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I rarely write <br>share these things <br>at present for truth </div><div style="margin:10px 0">beauty which bent <br>materialistically <br>lost seldom see, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">still should not be mocked, <br>for these qualities spring <br>from a eureka sacred, <br>perhaps God given source.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Shared is that which <br>I do translate, <br>often masked, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">or in the form of poetry, <br>or short stories<br> <br>long since given back <br>to the flame. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I sometimes write <br>that which can be seen <br>visualized by a friend </div><div style="margin:10px 0">who I may decide <br>to share a poem <br>or poems with. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">This can be in any shape, <br>size, situation, colour, <br>place or form I deem fit; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">or the piece <br>being formed dictates. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>It can contain <br>drama, excitement, peace, <br>tension, morals, codes, <br>wisdom, simplicity, frustration, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">complications, prophesy, <br>horror, which I wish <br>to visit upon it in <br>any particular genre. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I may meditate <br>upon it, <br>explore simile metaphor, <br>play with words; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">or become <br>a dissatisfied bore <br>destroy a piece I adhore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Choice is mine, <br>for I have <br>no one to please, <br>decision totally <br>belongs to me, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">my aim is not <br>presently to create <br>to publish, or </div><div style="margin:10px 0">even to preserve; <br>but merely to survive <br>in a world in which </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I walk ever out of time; <br>to the beat of an unheard <br>distant drum the mainstream </div><div style="margin:10px 0">does not perceive follow <br>in my lifetime <br>perhaps never shall. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I could give you <br>a glimpse into <br>such a world from </div><div style="margin:10px 0">a single diverse poem </div><div style="margin:10px 0">like ‘A Season Of Growth’ <br>which is <br>five hundred and ten <br>lines long </div><div style="margin:10px 0">written as the first <br>key poem in a trilogy <br>transmuting time and space. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The poem begins <br>as follows; <br>I could give a basic </div><div style="margin:10px 0">explanation <br>that would run <br>into three pages at least.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Better I give only <br>the beginning; <br>then close off this world </div><div style="margin:10px 0">as suddenly as it appeared <br>within the normality of your life...</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>“Remember chill child channelling infamous ice <br> listening intently as if awaiting what <br> among helm heights of wind blown crags? <br> Straining to catch each Woden word, dripping <br> slowly from thrive thawing ice.<br> Grim grain weathered wheat waiting <br> for sun warmth water.<br> Hopelessly longing for season of growth<br> to burst forth heralded by.... </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Copyright © Terence George Craddock<br>Written in July 1998.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Terence+George+Craddock">Terence George Craddock</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=524135" data-title="A Dream Space Of The Mind de Terence George Craddock" data-description="I do not have a dream space as do other people I know. My dream space is not a room, nor could it ever be despite the richness, or tastefulness, or simplicity; or style, or colour scheme, or tidiness, or untidiness; or love attentio..."></div> </div> </div>

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