Festival of Dreams.

First, it was the tapping of drums,
In slow frenzy movement.
Thump, thump, thump.
It was the echo of a reawakening.
For the convergence of great realms.
Dreams are waking up,
From heavy deep slumber
They are yawning, stretching and cooing.
Seeking for the attention of Mother dreams.
They would suckle on the mother’s breast,
To gather strength for the dance ahead
In the chambers of vine and wine.
Dreams of yore,
Birthed in the rooms of thorns,
A renaissance of good tidings,
They are ready to dance,
To the rhythms of the new beat
They would shake their fragile bodies,
And sweat out every burden,
Holding them back.
It is the festival of dreams,
All dreams must dance.