I believe in a Divinity

In every human heart

There lay a seed of eternity

I call 'the divine spark'.


And even when weak

It's beginnings we can trace

Beneath layers of the conditioning

We have learned in this place.


Our mind has a purpose

Just not for this world

A stepping stone in the waters

Of this life's unmade pearls.


The dreams that we weave

In the light of each day

Become darkness in each night

Upon this, our heads lay. 

If we ask of our consciousness

Before lying down

To send insight to matters

That leave us lost and unfound,

Our plea will be heard

As we fall fast asleep

We'll be swept from our mind

To a place deeper than deep.

It is there, we'll get answers,

That will guide us to more,

Unaware of this force

That will mold what's in store.

We will not seek proof

Of this power that guides

Because no human life.

Can change what It decides.

Time waits for no one

On earth, or above,

But in the Aeons of slumber,

All knowledge is love.

If you find yourself doubting

Know it's yourself who you doubt,

In the time our eyes close

Human choice will run out.

Uncertainty is nil,

In this place of all gods,

And the spark within all of us

Just increases the odds.

All that's unknown

Can be known in deep sleep

But to know it in waking

Is to sow, and then reap.

The seeds of Divinity

Always subtle to (wo)man,

But to dream in the waking

Brings It's secrets to hand. 

So now I lay myself

Down to sleep

And all I ask is for understanding

Of this life that I reap.


And as dreams weave their way,

Through each daybreaking hour,

Be them frightful or pleasant,

May I walk in the light, and from truth, never cower.





Author's Notes/Comments: 

This was inspired by a combination of different thoughts on dreams and life in general. 



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9inety's picture

This almost

reads like a prayer, a true mantra for inner peace.



"One of the best results of life, is the torment of love"

Dylan Eliot

nightlight1220's picture

Makes me smile that you saw

Makes me smile that you saw that...because it really was/is...for myself, anyway. :-)



...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "