Visions of hope

time is measure, and true love will always be the treasure

May we give birth to a new Dream of the People.
A dream that can sustain us in the new millennium.
A dream that remembers that there is no separation between spirit and matter.
A dream that infuses the life of the people with the power of the erotic.
A dream that reminds us of what is holy.

I call on a dream that remembers
the power of life giving moisture
that recognizes the smell of the sea
where it caresses the shore
in the scent of our sweat
in the salt of our tears
in the slippery wetness that pours
from between the soft thighs
of a woman well loved.

I call on a dream that reminds us
to focus on our fingertips,
on the shape and weight of our hand
on blood and bone and a thousand nerve endings
as we raise an apple
to our mouths
and let the tip of our tongues
slide on the round, smooth firmness
of the cool surface
and feel the spray of juice
as our teeth pierce the skin
and enter the softness
inside.

A dream that helps us taste
the weeks of rain and sun
the ripening on the tree
the labour of the farmer
touch of the fruit-picker
journey of the men and women
who bring fruits
from grove to table.
I call on a Dream of the People that remembers
there is no separation
that knows
each act lived fully awake
cannot help but be
both prayer and lovemaking.

Oriah Mountain Dreamer