Dreams & Boxes: Sestina

Back and forth, we swing through time.
I push, you pull, and we hope for straight lines
that will guide us, that we can follow
without care. And when we get to where
we're going, say "I'll meet you back
here," and we'll pray that it wasn't a dream.

Remember telling me about your dream?
You were slow, and careful, and took your time
and with each deep breath you cracked your spine back
into place, while speaking of boxes and lines
that kept you stagnate, screaming "Where
am I now, and who can I follow?

Someone take me home and don't follow
me there. I have to get out of this dream,
I'm just not sure where."
When you told me, I said, "This all takes time,
we move inside skeletons and dreary out lines
so maybe we should just go back,

yeah, leave this behind and go back
to where we came from. Follow
all of the fingers and thumbs, lines
and arrows, pointing to good dreams.
We'll get it right this time
and find home some where

clean." "You're right," you reply, "aujourd'hui." Where
did you learn that, I wonder and say it back,
assuming I'll learn in time
and follow
your lead, holding your hand through this dream.
I help you bend lines

and you help me draw lines
and conclusions, pull out ideas from where
they're hiding, behind a bad dream.
They crawl back
and follow
your lead through time.

If you're lost, child, follow the path back
to the cry, because dreams are not supposed to keep us confined within lines, but lead us to where space meets time.