Generic

These Dreams, 
they always start and end the same. 
 
She lies in red sand 
wrapped in red cloth, 
her skin so milky and smooth 
against the contrast of crimson dust. 
She grips the sand in her hands 
and holds it tight, 
but the grains escape 
through her fingers, 
And time stops. 
Frozen in a moment 
And in the spaces between time. 
Between each falling grain, 
she tastes the hint of something 
profound to come…. 
The meaning of the dream 
to reveal itself? 
Is it an echo of yesterday’s pain, 
Or an expression of what ancestors 
are trying to say? 
Does it unpick the mystery of times to come, 
When tomorrow meets the new rising sun? 
But then time resumes 
and the grains of blood sand 
pour between her fingers tightly clenched, 
the message lost or not understood. 
Her mind hungers for something more, 
For deeper consciousness. 
But all is forgotten as her eyes open 
to waking life. 
 
And so these dreams, 
They always start and end the same