A Dream: Truth Be Known


Those who whisper, darkness hides.

Ambriel beckons, wings outstretched.

Truth be known, silence stolen,

Angels calling the inner truth.

Open boldly the rusty gate.

All is illusion stored inside,

Iron bars dissipating in Pashar’s breath.

Take hold of Ambriel’s wings –

Those who slumber in denial,

Hold on tightly; hazards await

Though angels guide the steps.

What awaits is all electric knowing,

Held in light, colors outstretched

In every angle, heated by love.

No boundaries to this mystery.

In these terms, you’ll understand

The journey to that place,

Shown in dreams never forgotten

You’re the first to enter; the last to leave.


Elemiah, your guide to wisdom

Appears in a white skiff,

And star beams lap as waves

On the glassy side of your soul.

You take the ride gladly.

Another companion, Michael,

To Heaven’s solid shoreline,

Sand sculpted of stars.

There to greet you,

Women in tiaras, men in tuxedos,

A pickpocket with no shoes

In a fine Armani suit.

Behind them all a brilliant doorway

Leading to many rooms with no walls.

Michael beckons, Come, Not that way –

The path of hot rocks,

Upon which Armani man dances.

You follow into the banquet hall.

There, inside no outside, just light.

No way to know when night becomes dawn.

The walls, tall, wide, heavy, yet gossamer thin;

Lines of doors meandering snake-like

On and on, meeting as a fine black dot

Elsewhere and nowhere.

As the partiers gather, holding champagne.

They snub the new arrival; how earthly.

You’re led to a storage room, solid, static.

It breathes of death, smells of dirt.

Lined up are cubicles of dining room fare.

Maple, oak, hardwoods, arranged for the viewing

Of passing mourners. All the while,

The partiers’ laughter rings from the banquet hall –

Are these their wares, artifacts

Of lives unlived in wooden cells?

Smaller rooms holding other partiers

Resound of music of the ages –

Bach, Beethoven, the Beatles,

Hendrix, Joplin, Bill Monroe, Ice Cube.

Room beyond room

Inside each room, a room,

A dream in a dream in a dream,

Dreams beyond dreams.

Behind a glass wall,

An ex-nun at the blackboard

Teaching new recruits:

No rock and roll; no smoking.

Upset that He never appears;

The angels and seraphs shoulder all the work.


The chandelier’s gone, the dirge of wood,

Stowed in dust, the skiff awaits.

You were first, now you’re last

On this journey home past the Sea of Forgetting.

Ambriel lays you down to wake

And whispers the oracles.

As darkness flees the sun’s ascent.

Truth be known.


Copyright © 2017 Barbara Harris Leonhard

Image: The Eye of God (ngc 6751)


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