My sisters barely remember their dreams at night,
whispered the old dreamer. We have replaced them
with hypocritical swords which crippled the ancient
storms of magic. Never can we permanently stop the
invisibility of such flights, we just don’t remember
what is important to our soul.
Long ago, a forest tragically animated her
material world and from those moments on,
clans forgot the languages of the dreamer.
Now we say Mind, Body, Spirit – still rejecting
the Soul and it’s fears of divine adornment
called Kozmetikai (cosmetic).
The origin of this word means :
” Arrange and Restore Order “…
This is what our dreamers do when
they fly above the great mountains.
We beautify the borderlands of harmony
near the destructive past. This is what
happens at the beginning of the end.
Phoenix Notes: My poem is dedicated to Emese’s Dream, a Hungarian Folklore: In the legend, Emese dreams of the Turul bird (9th century) in which the bird appears, it starts to flow from her womb and moves west, growing into a great River which signified that of her child. The second time in the legend, the bird is mentioned in the dreaming of the leader of the Hungarian Tribes, in which eagles attack the horses and a Turul came and devoured the Eagle clans. This symbolized the destruction to come of the ancient tribal Hungarians (Magyars). Because of Eseme’s dream, they had migrated in order to survive. This legend is in reference about Hun-Magyar kinship.
The legend of Woman in this folklore, and what my poem is about, is her Dreaming itself which was eventually destroyed, her end in the beginning.