Ridges of Dreams

echoes of me
ricochet off the high cliffs
as I tumble down
a pebble of me
falling falling deeper in my dreams
I am smooth and round
and roll along in the wind of life
leaving little trace
no tsunami am I
nothing before and nothing after
just the echoes of a tumbling pebble
heard as a single sound only in my dreams

as I am carried in the collective capriciousness
bright coloured pebbles bump against me
and I am smeared
with little goblets of colour
colour soon worn away
by the edges of the she pebbles
only the lone pebble retains its colour
exterior polished in the rough and tumble wash action of life
other little pebbles dim and dark in the sparkle
bright in the sunlight
bright in the moonlight
bright for the death hawk swooping down from the dark
to carry them off to a real world
their penance for brilliance

in the pebble dream
us grays and blues and dull ochres
meander ruminating along the valley of existence
little grains of flesh stone
cascading with each passing tumble
until we are arrive at the lake of dreams
grains of happiness and sadness congregating
at the death delta
where we all lie fallow
food for the single cell lichen
and soon
over gods bones
we will crawl from this darwin soup
to walk once more
on the edges of the dream cliffs
from where we all must fall