The Dreamkeeper

The grass became feathers as we ran through the field,
Leaving worries at the fence, and problems at our heels.
With every step we take we’ll forget all that we’ve hated.
The stars light our path and our existence feels fated.


I reach for your hand to help you up the tree.
But you make it up yourself, no help from me.
What a long journey it was to find my secret place,
But it sure seems worth it to see the moon upon your face.

For as long as we need the tree becomes our own.
I have come to life, and my coffin has been closed.
The fork in the tree becomes our meeting place.
I sit down behind you and place my arms around your waist.

The strangeness in the light only compounds the mystery.
When you look upon my face, what is it that you see?
Have I become a ghost?
I peek around your shoulder and ask you if the sun has died.
No, you say with assurance, I’m sure that it’s just waiting to rise.

Slowly I loose my grip around you as my body disappears.
Slowly I begin confronting the meaning of my empty tears.
Have I become a ghost?
What do you think of now when you picture my face?
Is there anything there, or is something in its place?

My shadow, like fog, descends from the tree.
I begin to walk backwards while you’re gazing down at me.
The sun flashes on the horizon, and I begin to burn.
Even if you try to save me, it’s too late for my return.

Shine away my shadow, the sun never dies.

Shine away my shadow, the sun never lies.

I’d rather die in love,
Than stay alive numb.

So I climb back in my coffin and wait for the bell to toll,
And I pay the Dreamkeeper another night to keep my soul.

Does that make me a ghost?

C.M.H. ‘05