The Dream Man

He stepped from his Manhattan apartment in colored rags. His long white beard was washed in blues and he carried a wooden cane that zigged and zagged.

His eyes were electric and his smile was divine. He was the Dream Man for humankind.

Kinetic energy had always been his field of study. He had deep wrinkles, a mysterious silver pocket watch, and cheeks that were ruddy.

His shoes were high top green Converse. His hat, like a coal miner’s light. He only left his art studio, galactic apartment, when the stars were scattered throughout the darkest hours of any night.

He was a scientist of the highest degree. He studied light and the deepest parts of the Dead Sea.

He knew the true meaning of pitch black. He studied darkness and dreams that could carry Heaven back.

He pushed his dream machine, with wobbly rubber wheels, up and down New York City’s diverse neighboring hills.

He had a bell that he would ring in the middle of the night for the restless hearts that could not count sheep, or let their meandering minds take flight.

People would see him passing along, with his crooked cane and his headlight so strong.

Many a cat followed his cue. They were bound where he was bound, to help make people’s dreams come true.

In theory, a dream is just a brain enigma. But in truth, the dream is the story that cure’s deception’s stigma.

Deception is a terrible thing. It takes the song from the birds that love to sing.

Deception is a thief in the darkest of night. It steals Heaven’s dreams and leaves the dreamless to fight their own fight.

No, it’s not at all like Santa, the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy. The Dream Man is as real as your dreams can tarry.

He opens his dream cart with the wobbly wheels and proceeds to examine the Earth’s dreamless ills.

He scatters loving prayers in every direction; dream clouds form in delectable confections.

Strawberry clouds for the very young, blueberry clouds for the spring chickens that want to be sprung.

It is amazing what a little cotton candy can do to brighten the weary, and bring such hope to Heaven’s point-of-view.

There in the sweetness of the stars at night, the Dream Man stirs Heaven with his wooden crooked cane, to summon guardians of God’s zig zagging light.

Angels hold the seeds that make dreams grow. Without the angels we are as barren as a universe’s black hole.

It’s all in the wrist says the Dream Man divine, its all in knowing what’s yours is mine.

He brings Technicolor back to the streets of the Earth. He is a Master of light and of our worth.

Lest you think I am making this up, take a look into your Bible, and look it all up.

“I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” ~ John 8:12

Kathy Paysen 2013