I awoke again with the old story trickling from my eyes.

I turned onto my side.

My hand reached out to find you.

You were not there.

Still, the story doesn't change

and it always

goes a little something

like this.


One day, two travelers crossed paths.
The first, a woman. 
The second, a man.
The two of them, road-weary, sat beside the river Into-Me-See.
They stayed awake for hours, well beyond twilight, sipping wine,
sharing stories of the roads that had brought them there.

They pondered delightful old loves, and also betrayals.
They told tales of attacks by sorcerers and bandits on the road.
Encounters with Fork-Tongues; those who always say one thing and do another.

Eventually the travelers grew tired
and laid down together under a large dreaming blanket to sleep.
Before they dozed off, they recited the old mantra of travelers and dreamers:

We are not these bodies.
We are but spirits passing through.
We have passed this way before.

Good to see you again, fellow traveler.
I remember you.


One night, the two travelers met inside a dream.

A trustworthy guide of the road joined them.

He bowed, and nodded, and said:


I know you can't see them just yet

but all around you now

are invisible doorways that are opening.


I know you can't hear them just yet

but all around you now

are songs being sung in your honor.


I know you can't see them just yet

but all around you now

are invisible helpers standing guard.


I know you can't feel it tonite

but all around you now

is a Great Love...

a Great Love that is holding you.


I see you're both wearing your armor.

I know because I've done it too.

You're wearing your armor to protect your heart.

Who could blame you?

It only makes sense in a world like this one.


But there are many worlds

and the problem with all those thick layers

is that which you long for the most

cannot reach you.

(c) 2018 / Frank LaRue Owen / purelandpoetry.com

sound: "Individuation", from Resonance/Disonance by Khyam Allami