Friday Poem: Dream

Mostly, dreams evaporate the moment I move my head, but this one clung on long after I woke up, and I recorded it in the form of a poem…

I open the door
And peer into the cellar.
There is a strange greenish light:
The clear, warm, salty pool, waist deep:
At the centre of the space
A golden statue,
A figure of Avolokiteshvara,
Buddha of Compassion –
Was it from his tears
That Kwan Yin arose?-
And what should arise
From the pool of tears in my basement?
Do I drain it, drink it, swim in it?
What is the purpose of all those tears?




The illustration/illumination, is of detail of a larger collage – an antique image of Avolokiteshvara, made in Tibet or Nepal – I forget which. I had a play with it, digitally, in an effort to make it a little more like my dream. I refrained from adding tears, which may have made the Buddha of Compassion look more like a sad clown… If anyone has any ideas about the meaning of my dream, I’d be interested to hear!