Fitful silent dreams

Smell of mud on a black creek,
High stillness of primeval forest,
Rioting invasion of soundless life,
Shiny patches.
Moon spread over thin layer of silver,
A great river, glittering,
As it flowed broadly without a murmur.
A flavour of mortality.
A taint of death.
Fragmented and coherent.
Do you see?
A dream.
Absurdity, surprise, bewilderment.
In a tremor of struggling revolt,
Notion of being captured,
By the incredible,
The very essence of dreams.
Its truth, its meaning,
- Its subtle and penetrating essence.
Impossible.
We live as we dream, alone...
Like a charm,
Treacherous appeal to lurking death,
To hidden devil,
To profound darkness of its heart.
Feared neither God nor devil,
Let alone any mere man.
Joyless brillance of sunshine.
Another existence perhaps.
Unrestful noisy dreams,
Overwhelming realities,
Implacable force brooding,
Over inscrutable intention.
The chance to find yourself,
Your own reality,
Silence driven away.