Evolution

By A.E. Bayne

When you were a child
And sleep overtook you in your mother’s ample arms,
Your eyelids fluttered coyly
As you sought a dream.
The rhythmic huffing of your mother’s breast
Rocked you further toward that otherworld.
Your eyes opened, and then closed;
You were gone.

When you were a boy,
The dreams came in sprays of color
Like slick oil from a genie’s bottle
Splashed upon the table.
You hugged your pillow tightly
Riding waves until you touched dawn,
Waking on a foreign shore,
Untried waters toying with your stubbly cheek.

When you were a young man
You did not sleep, but dreamed a waking life.
Audacious in your candor,
Incredulous in your philosophies,
You conquered untold fortunes
And ne’er closed an eye for fear that the world
Would swoop up its cloak tails and dip you head first
Like a fountain pen into the wells of destitution and obscurity.

When you were an aged man you slept often,
Sometimes dreaming fitful plots
That twined through remnants and regrets,
Twisting the truth of tales told twice.
Yours were the dreams of the heart drum and the thread weaver,
Collected stories embellished by wisdom’s pearls.
You balanced each moment with your toes wriggled deeply
Into past and future.

Now you are a child,
And sleep overtakes you in your mother’s swaying womb
As you deliver a dream that says,
I am the new day.
The rhythmic thumping of your mother’s heartbeat
Presses you toward that outer world.
Your eyes are closed, and then opened;
You are here.