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The Dreamer Behind the Moon

On the other side of the moon, a woman is sleeping. Her quiet breath stirs our long dark seas.

On the other side of the stars, a woman is wishing, deep in her dreams.

She wishes for forests and fieldmice and peace. It's quiet where she is, so quiet; she hasn't spoken to anyone for three days. She would like to be in a conversation that had space, like the space between the stars, and mysteries, like the oceans on the moons, and magic, like that which illuminates the worlds. But she can not find it, so she sleeps.

Her heart is in tulle, dancing gently. She has words like dirt under her fingernails. The world seems stranger to her than star-shadow and moon-behind - all its fires, ploughed fields, lies. All its meaningless noise. She can not fathom it, so she dreams.

She dreams of community kitchens, free medicines, softly-spoken voices, kings who knock on poor men's doors bearing milk and biscuits. But she knows she will never see it, so she is tired.

Out there in the darkness, alone and unheard. She dreams of a beautiful world.


  1. This strikes close to the bone, after all the ugliness of this week, the feeling of the wheels coming off of this society, that it is too already late for us to stop it and we don't even know yet. We are tired. Oh, what beauties we can dream of, so wistfully, and why shouldn't they be true?

  2. Poignant and ponder-worthy. Ever since I read your post about the value of dreaming, I’ve been treasuring my dream life more, and this one resonates with me so well. Dreams and prayers are such quiet, hidden, honorable modes of change. Loving your words!

  3. thank you everyone for your comments, they always mean alot to me. <3

  4. “...kings who knock on poor men's doors”

    It could happen.

  5. this is very resonant. I suspect many of us dream of more beautiful, kinder worlds, and it is tiring indeed to live in this one.


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