DREAM-KEEPER

When I write,
thirsting minutes
ripen into unquenchable hours
that drink not only dreams
of vanished voices,
but the voiceless whispers
of veiled promises
and shrouded secrets
that exist just below the surface
of a never-ending poem.

The hours own me
and all dream-keepers.
Champions of dreams undreamed.
Guardians of miles
of absent smiles
and forgotten silhouettes.

As life goes,
their words are now mine.
Their goodness a testimony
to the unattainable,
the clarity
of the unexplainable.

In distant things
I find myself
sheltered
where poetry lives,
where love showers
shadows on the earth.

© JOHN PISCATELLA