Dreaming

I woke up from a particularly beautiful dream today. As I woke up more, I could feel the dream fading away. I sat there until it was all gone and I couldn't remember a thing. It reminded me of those folks who paint pictures with water that gradually fade away or those monks who create beautiful sand "paintings" and then blow them away when they are finished.

I'm not sure if my dream was as pretty as a sand painting, since I don't take pictures of those sand paintings (why should I keep a picture of it around if the artists themselves are destroying it?) and I can't remember the dream at all. While I can't keep everything wonderful in life around, I can keep the experience of it and remember what I can.

I suppose that, ultimately, my whole life is like one of those sand paintings. And that's kind of beautiful.

An Erinku:
it's late enough in the year
for sun to shine
through my happy
yellow curtains