I do not know.

How do you distinguish a dream from a knowing?

Are they the same?

Does one formulate from an unknown plane and the other from an egoic passion of the mind?

So intertwined each of itself that they appear to be one?

Of these I am not certain. One seems to peek from the depths and the other from a distant hope. Perhaps they merged together in a sleepless walk.

This, I do not know.

I know that there came a time for me to relinquish its hold upon my senses and surrender into the glory of grief.

Cry, rage, demand answers that it cannot give.

For all dreams are seemingly only that. How can I miss and grieve that which I have not had?

That which I am unfamiliar with in this time?

So, it would seem, grieve I must.

 

For a new dream is dawning upon the tail of our moon. Promising that which is so much grander and yet so much simpler.

Distant and familiar, this new hope may emerge just behind my heart.

When the last of the ashes are swept away in the healing wind, this new love will take form.

But, grieve I must.

Honor, I must.

For these last wisps of fall have yielded seasons of hope. Crops of knowledge. Harvests of growth.

Nothing short of a dignified farewell will do. Lavished with tears, breath, and surrender.

Away my dream.

I realize a knowing you were not…

At least not the knowing I had imagined.

Whether this new knowing is a dream of hope or a knowing of soul, I welcome it just the same. A field of growing possibilities waxing into its first moon of spring.

Goodbye old friend.