The Dream

Somewhere between here and there,

the ground dissolves under my feet.

Steps ripple outward,

never touching land.

Curtains of curling mist unfurl,

opening into corridors

that bend back into themselves.

Every door on which I press

is only another parted veil.

Your voice threads the air

like music half-remembered-

a melody unraveling

the closer I lean to hear.

Glass moths circle dim light,

wings catching, vanishing,

as though they were never real.

I follow the drumming of their wings,

but they lead me deeper

into the land of dreams.

Somewhere between here and there,

the sky drips silver,

stars melting into pools

that vanish when I kneel to drink.

Shadows move without bodies,

gestures repeating

a dance I almost recognize.

I reach to join them,

but my arms close on smoke.

In the distance-

a stairwell carved of moonlight,

ascending into nothing.

Each step I climb

undoes the step beneath.

And still,

your absence waits ahead of me,

a locked room

in the loftiest tower.

Somewhere between here and there,

I carry you carefully in fragments:

a masked face, obscured,

a touch that falls through water walls,

a silence that screams

louder than any word.