Dreamer

This poem is inspired by my recent relapse into the post rock records I loved when I first came to college, plus those old psychadelic rock, classic rock, and glam rock records I loved to mime on guitar. 

Our mind's web reaches
to the far ends of the deep. Space,
A place where the paintings turn to dreams
And the light unshielded shines.
Out there no thought can break
what is not matter, what cannot be pierced,
And though I fire these questions like volleys
They are lost without an echo, without a tracer to guide the next shot.
I am sick as I search for you, the great Dreamer
whose masterpiece weaves through all thoughts, and binds
what I thought was clearly meant to fail,
This experiment I secretly feared was doomed from the start.
But the Breath spells hope in those cold deep spaces, in
The darkness no soul can bear,
Your silence breaks in like a tornado
It repairs all my engineered disasters, that I
a happy fool,
spend these eons to make.