Dreams: A Poem by Mousumee Baruah

The skies  remain the  same, wearing the same color

Grace and embraced by the sun, moon, and stars like a friend forever.

Wearing crimson with a lateral stripe of vermilion in the morning.

And purple and pink in the evening.

The only difference can be seen in the land below.

The murmuring reeds and sunflowers are missing from the scene in the meadows.

All once exist as a verdant realm.

Now, all become a   dream.

Those sounds of whooshing wind playing with lissome reeds and smiling sunflowers.

And the sound of sonorous rain and her thunders.

A dream catcher is hanging near the bed.

A beautiful hoop made of strings, yarn, colorful feathers, beads, and threads.

It is a belief that the dream catcher stops unwanted dreams and allows the sweet dream to flow.

I want to see in my dreams the dancing reeds, flowers blooming, and with  luminescent fireflies  how night glows.

The sky cannot encroach like land, a land that changes with each civilization.

The bucolic scene that I see in my dream once exists and was a reality, which is now buried under concrete urbanization.

Land cannot be like the infinite sky, as in the sky lord stays and thus become a divine pristine realm.

Here homo sapiens stay and are at the helm.

And that’s the difference, here things that once exist become a dream and fantasy.

There in the sky, all remain the same, and where dreamy rainbow appears in reality.