Paco Dreamtide

I rise where color sleeps,

where memory curls like smoke

around the edge of a dream.

I am the ember beneath the tide,

a slow-burning breath

pressing light through water,

water through light,

until the two forget

which one they were first.

In the hush between heartbeats,

I bend the air.

I open a doorway.

I paint the world with heat—

soft, then sharp,

like something waking

after a long, shimmering drift.

Here, in this quiet blaze,

forms blur, shadows melt,

and the dream remembers itself.

Call my name,

And I rise again

Oil on Linen 

24" x 30"