The Old Neighborhood

Last night I was back in the old neighborhood
where I grew up, and I was shown that it wasn’t
a neighborhood anymore, but in reality a stage.

This stage was being disassembled, the props
were one by one being hauled away by invisible
stage hands — it had all been a theater production.

First the asphalt streets were being dug up, leaving only
the gravel beneath, then the deconstruction proceeded
to my old playground — reducing it to mounds of dirt.

Little by little, the old familiar world was disappearing.
Scene by scene, my past was systematically taken down
to make room for somebody else’s present, I suppose.

When I awoke I immediately understood the dream,
sometimes we can’t escape the obvious — the firing squad
takes aim, then fires, and we know what happens next.

How can I be nostalgic now for a time that never was?
I have been shown my future by a glimpse into my past.
All I have is what’s here now, and I really don’t have that.


About Bob OHearn

My name is Bob O'Hearn, and I live with my Beloved Mate, Mazie, in the foothills of the Northern California Sierra Nevada Mountains. I have a number of blog sites you may enjoy: Photo Gallery: Essays on the Conscious Process: Compiled Poetry and Prosetry: Verses and ramblings on life as it is: Verses and Variations on the Investigation of Mind Nature: Verses on the Play of Consciousness: Poetic Fiction, Fable, Fantabulation: Poems of the Mountain Hermit: Love Poems from The Book of Yes: Autobiographical Fragments, Memories, Stories, and Tall Tales: Ancient and modern spiritual texts, creatively refreshed: Writings from selected Western Mystics, Classic and Modern: Wisdom of a Spirit Guide: Thank You!
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