The Prophetic View

On the night that you dreamed of me,
Did the moon chuckle? I wonder.
Did she beckon the sun and stars?
Come and see a gullible man,
Who dares to prop his hopes upon a vision of the night.
See how he presses his shirt, his pants, his suit…
His feet, into the shoes, destiny set at his door.
Together, did they call you a fool,
Who purposed to war against an army of giants, with nothing but words?

On the night that you saw me in the far away land of your tomorrow,
Surely, the wind must have whispered to you, over and over,
What’s the use? Give up!
And the ants brought news of those who before you, had failed.
What’s the use? Give up!
Perhaps even the earth shed her tears of fear for you.
What if you too, she had to cover and bury?
What’s the use? Please, give up!

But on the night that you had dreamt of me,
Your ears had heard the sound of celebration,
Your feet, moved with the rhythm of liberation,
And your eyes had beheld a sight that could not be denied.
So you washed your face and combed your hair.
You put on your suit and shoed on destiny.
Casting away fears and tears, you walked the path to the mountaintop.
The summers of oppression have come and passed.
The Falls of doubts and Springs of revivals have been many.
The dream still hangs on the verge of morning.
So I too, will dream of someone and follow after the vision.
Suzy Ceci