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author’s note:
A decades of life reduced to a few lines.
THE QUIET DARK
As a fledgling adult, I preferred the cacophony:
I thrilled to feel the energy
of the loud proud mishmash of noise
roiling in the public square.
But soon the commotion infested my head
and I wasn’t able to hear
my thoughts and feelings clearly—
a problem indeed
when choices must be made.
I was struggling to decide
which way was the best way for me.
I was told:
listen to your intuition.
But when I tried
I soon discovered
just how obtuse I’d become
from being in the blare so long.
In search of what I’d lost
I then delved down into the quiet dark.
Deep within
I could feel what I truly felt
and see the trouble in my thoughts.
Then of course, I wanted to find
what was behind
those thoughts and feelings.
And so I continued to explore.
No, I didn’t always like what I found inside
but good or bad, the discoveries amazed me.
Antarctica has already been mapped.
So I’m probing this other strange continent.
However
I’m still obliged to participate
in the cacophony outside.
And since I must, I might as well
open myself fully to the experience:
I’ll grin as I squint into the blare’s bold wind
and let my monkey dance in the mad parade.
I can still enjoy the superficial noise—
I just need to remind myself:
the show is not the substance.
I can play as a child
without becoming infantile
as long as I stay connected
to the wise one I’ve found
below the surface—
in the recesses of the quiet dark.
How Can I Live In This World?: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2026, Michael R. Patton
author’s note:
I subscribe to the theory that a dream won’t tell you what you already know.
WHAT THE DREAM TOLD ME ABOUT FLYING BLINDLY
In the dream, I’m flying
but I feel so weak
because I can’t believe I can fly
and feel so scared:
I’m blinded by cloud--
any moment, I could slam
into the flat slab of a cliff.
Some claim dreams
are just nonsense.
But I know the feeling
in this dream to be true.
Yet I wonder:
why do I need a dream
to tell me to be cautious?--
after all, I already am.
And if the dream means
to convince me
I can do what I don’t believe I can,
it hasn’t.
No, I think
the dream came to say:
despite your fright
you can still enjoy this flight
--what a thrill it is!--
you can use that energy
to lighten the doubt
weighing on your wings.
The Truth of the Dream: poetry ebook
© 2021, Michael R. Patton
author’s note:
With regret, I cut these lines from the poem below:
“as any witch who sweeps at night
would tell you:
change often goes unnoticed.”
SPINNING & TURNING
A year or so ago
I awoke from a dream
of a cock crowing on a rooftop—
silhouetted distinctly
by the pink-gold of a rising sun
which I believed symbolized
the arrival of a glorious new life
after decades of hard labor.
But when the weeks passed
and I continued to spin
without appearing to turn
I began to doubt again—
what more could I do
to shatter whatever invisible barrier
blocked my forward progress?—
perhaps something new
would bring in the new
so I began a slew
of fresh healthy activities:
I chanted along
with a recording of monks
and wrote daily in a dream journal—
analyzing scenes of mirrors and fog.
I surreptitiously laid
a stone walkway
in our city park—
a monument to the many strong people
working in the shadows
for the good of all.
I rearranged my files
then rearranged the rearrangement—
signaling to
the powers that be
(maybe outside, maybe within me)
that I was quite ready
for the disruption
of a new beginning.
But despite all I did
I still seemed to spin
without turning
so I again darkened with doubt
until a dream showed
pink-gold sunrays
erasing the gray
of a skylight above me.
Waking in joy
I then began to crow—
finally I understood:
though the mornings
may seem the same
I am turning my world.
© 2018, Michael R. Patton
myth steps blog
author’s note:
“We experience a dream as real because it is real.”
— Dr. William C. Dement
MY BETTER WORLD
The excited uncertainty
of crossing a stone bridge in dark fog
ended
before I’d reached the end—ended
with the alarm of morning
and as I began my usual routine
the intensity faded
and I forgot the dream
until that afternoon:
while waiting to cross a city street
I suddenly recalled the night bridge
hidden and revealed and hidden
by the tease of shifting clouds
and as the feeling returned
my day world of blatant sunlight
became as real as that dream:
the traffic light warning me…
the bleached grey fence…
a vacant lot overgrown with weeds—
all seemed strangely alive
and I felt myself to be
an alien spirit
discovering a wonderland
then the light changed
and as my attention shifted
that sense of intensity faded:
once again I was
a lowly armadillo
grubbing along the asphalt.
However
that feeling of living
in a grander world
is not lost, only asleep
and sometimes
stirs from slumber
to end my daydream.
I then remember
I am more than a mere
creature of survival.
© 2018, Michael R. Patton
what I learned while alone: poetry ebook
Michael Patton
sky rope (subterranean rappel) 