Ancestral Healing
And as I found myself stirred from my slumber
That was I, indeed l was awoken, thoughts asunder
Dreams interrupted early, a storyline incomplete
My thoughts now crashing, returning from night to day
And what was the culprit, the reason for my waking
The errant sound of the attack, how powerful
That a noise of such intrigue might enter my realm
Again did I listen, with belief of an esoteric capture
And a lengthy silence followed, despite my expectations
Nary an outburst, nor invasion of my auditory envelopment
No encroachment or penetration, not even a whisper
In fact there was nothing at all; a misguided silence
And my mind began whirling, thoughts spinning and twirling
For confusing abounded and I caught myself in abject fear
Scenarios counted and calculated, and myself near panic
Step by step, I tried to find, the source of that wayward sound
And nothing even came to mind, for my awakening erased
The description losing traction despite concentration
Just a fade and then away a scattering of the shattered pieces
No pitch nor tone remained, just a hollow echo in memory
And sleep abandoned me, all but surrendering the night
For commitment to my plight I was, and a grand plight it be
Understanding what and why and how many times
Would leave me so awakened and in this state of distress
And then I stood, I felt the floorboards as I paced the room
Examining the spaces, each unique but without surprise
Testing the acoustics; my own words bouncing across the room
My sphere of audio influence creeping from room to hall
And a testing phase I did enter and I gathered tools of science
Keeping notes as a scholar, with metronome and timepiece
Distance, time, and level, all things worthy of acoustical review
Trying to reconstruct that which has laid siege to my mind
And I thought I had it; felt the unadulterated triumph of success
But no such joyous closing as failure played the spoiler
For too it quickly faded; the mental construct of recreation
Perhaps it was always imagined; that thought grew by moment
And then I thought about the dream; the source therein might be
Clearing the foggy approach where thoughts and sounds intertwined
Leaving space for the answer, as if this recall might solve
To walk along my pathway of solution; now my only intention
And alone was I no longer, I left all in the waking world aside
A human walking among sprits in a state of total relaxation
Unnoticed and out of place but observant to the happenings
Moving to and fro, just listening, eavesdropping in search of the sound
And the voices were, oh so many, some recognized and some new
Ancient dialects of lost words, words lost to the spoken languages
Chants from the ancestors, whispers of the guides of wisdom
Memories not yet lived and lives of those not yet conceived
And immersed as I was in this land of my people, the world’s people
No longer did I yearn for answers; the sound merely a sound
For it was the awakening that was my message; my calling
To listen to those voices, to heed their words in my own silence
And with each step in the ethereal world, I became infused
My mind filled with the knowledge of eons of hope and healing
Energies passing freely through my flesh, filling my soul
Renewing that which I’ve allowed to become complacent
And now I’m ready; cleansed from that which has held me down
My freedom no longer a measurement, but a way of being
Empowered with that which has no description nor name
Understanding that from this point on, my life won’t be the same
And I shall slumber no more…
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Well penned and interesting read, Ralph. The dream sent you on a query to seek truth. I sometimes have a dream sent forth from ancestors of the distant path, and I do the same thing – ponder on it till I find what it is they want me to know. Great work.
A great piece Ralph, indicative of that states of mind within realms: awake, dream and astral. Greatly descriptive, unnerving and inspiring as echos of time touch our minds. Very much enjoyed my friend.
Thanks both of you – this piece started out to be something totally different but morphed on me
I, for one, hate when I am drifting off to slumber and a story line hits me. I had fallen into the habit of not wanting to get up and write it down when I should. By morning, it has usually drifted away, lost in the pages of time. I was intrigued by how the story morphed on you as you paced the floor, listening to the creaking. Great piece. I enjoyed reading it.
The notes app on my iPad gets a lot of use in the middle of the night. It’s nice because I don’t need to turn on the light to write something.