The Dream of Faith

I dreamed I had a brother,
with me from birth
a parent's gift to carry me home

He had golden skin,
dancing in the fires of living,
the fever of pain and death
I danced with him, to the
music that came from intuition.

But the brother grew old
And the words of bound books

Leaped off pages to cover his skin

Layering over and over, piling up.

The surface of his body

covered over, black
his body lay weak.

Now diseased,

I cradle his head, not yet resigned

Croaking remembered melodies

Conviction comes in the night,

Softly, and soon,
I will dance again and

we will not be burned.