The Mystery of History
Scenes Seen in a Dream
They drifted in my dreams last night
phantoms in my sleep
the mystery of history
before closed eyes they creep.
And wander through the ages
these avatars in jars
preserved for nights of dreaming
they could have been from Mars.
I wonder if the thunder
and the morning light
reveals scenes seen in a dream
as I watch eagles in flight.
I watch them from the balcony
as they fly on by
on their magic trajectory
they don’t even have to try.
First thing in the morning
then last thing at night
on the wing they all bring
a sense of pure delight.
Eagles leave their lookouts
teaching young to fly
the mystery of history
and call their mournful cry.
They soar and swing on summer winds
in sun when they are young
then glide into winter’s shadows
and speak in a different tongue.
The mystery of history
those nights that never end
looking for the answers
peering round the bend.
Those that came before us
gone though in my mind
they are scenes seen in a dream
at night my senses find.
©
David Rudder
15th August 2020
Thanks for reading.
