elizabeth casey

Last night I dreamed of galaxies: the boundaries of known and unknown worlds.

You say t’is an impossible adventure, but the skies are not so great as that; What signify the heavens?

Why, they are but a tribute, and the sunrise my fanfare.

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Dreams: Within them, we are unhindered by misconceptions of science; all is real and

true that lives within me,

And time is but a reference for weak-minded men.

Why then, should I not relive Creation? Let us go there now.

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Look-- can you see it? The stark but sweet horizon watches,

And we, we as well may see the flooding of the light, cascading over purple mountains,

into the silent atmosphere,

Into the depths of the darkest seas, and pouring over deserted plains,

Dark was the earth in ages past, but now, forever light!

Ah, sweet light! Sweet darkness, too:

I drink the gases of the sun, blow out the candles of the stars,

So gliding o’er the snow-topped roofs, but I can see the world this night;

Mine, mine, mine! it is, and ever shall it be.

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Mine are the seas which flow beneath me, impervious to the winds of change,

Mine are the summers, the winters, the falls, the ever-renewing Spring is mine,

Mine is the earth, the nourishing soil, the roots to which it tenderly clings,

Growth is mine, and Green is mine; the youngest leaflets call my name,

The old and dying call my name; Death is within me; I own it, t’is Mine.

The undulating valleys are the waves of my hair, the Sea may be found in my tears,

I am the Source, the Creator, the myth, and Mine is the world we behold below.

Mine is the pollen which fertilizes, and mine are the flowers receiving it,

Mine are the Lusts of the Mating Season, Mine are the Children it begets,

Mine are the very particles of air, Mine is the dust which flies through the air,

Mine is the Life, Mine is Creation, Mine is the Genius behind it all.

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You name it extraordinary; I shall continue to call it quite ordinary,

And heedlessly navigate these familiar waters.

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I pity the town below, this sleeping town below, and dead as yet to the sunrise--

To believe we sleep at night!--

I create as I sleep, and dream while awake; they are but ants below me, ants to a god.

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The violet sky invites us, amorously; it waits for us, it waits with open arms.

Will you not fly to it?

Don’t bother me with lack of wings; I maintain a frog could fly as well, would you but

let it.

The imagination is the medium of the universe; what you dream will come to pass,

though only you should see it.

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Man is sovereign and invincible; his presence is immutable as the stars.

If I may inquire, what existed before I knew of it? The universe lives because I

recognize it.

I create, and procreate the makers of the world; my reign is uncontested.

I decide what shall be, and shall not be.

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Tonight I’ll dream of Children, sweet and grubby children, walking the streets of a dirty British

town.

I’ll release a breath to carry them heavenward, there to endless play, swinging on the

rings of Saturn.

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Do you not believe me? Let us go there.

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