Dream

I became still.
Under an unexpected view.
After the repeateadly calls.
Uncounciously I came to see what You did.
I became still,
because I thought I was going to fall;
because, You, the Greatest Artist,
had made me think I was lost in dream;
suddenly I thought I was dreaming,
my sleepness became awareness,
the surrealistic was touchable and real.
And I was afraid like a child,
afraid of such beauty, afraid of such colors.
I remember that I cried,
and thanked,
weeping.

Colors that only dreams can show
were there, mixed with my falling tears.
Mixed with emotion, mixed with You.
I felt the void and felt it was happening.
It lasted a few seconds, eternal in my memory.
I felt that was You, suddenly, without avert.
I had not call You. Or did I?

The most beautiful painting seemed to me a dream
but I was so awake that I failed to believe.
So in our dreams we believe what we see,
we don't say no, we accept them,
make part of them,
suffer in them and enjoy them.

But that time it was different.
I saw what I saw,
the sleep had gone
and the dream came true.

Labels: English, maryam poems