By Jeffrey Agnoli
When I don’t go out to meet the source
of all dreams,
then, fortunately, it comes to me,
its secret tide line reaching inland deep,
up to my door, where in a mist, I half sleep.
Standing in the checkout line,
the darkness of the ages dispelled
as I note in amazement the beings
of light peopling around me, silently telling
me, but not me alone: the beautiful dream is true.
And in endless other ways it comes.
If even a sliver of its infinite-ness
is allowed through any one of its many doors,
in will flow numberless energies of the One,
the harmonies sent us on the Sun’s golden wings.
Harmonies of kin and far beyond kin,
of woods and paths through them,
harmonies of seas and skies, on and on,
of pure deeds done with no thought but love,
sure harmonies of the commonality of hearts and minds.
Mists into streams, streams under angel bridges,
into rivers turbulent yet so clear and soul-fused,
into an ocean of wonder and stars … one way or
another, one time or another, we greet the source.
Might as well hum the hymn of welcoming,
and open the door each morning.
Jeffrey Agnoli is an educator and poet who lives in Edgartown.
