I met a mare, a talking mare,
A Night Mare. She was scared.
"You're BEAUTIFUL" I blurted.
Shyly, we made friends, and then
together we climbed
up the terrible stairs
(each step a challenging dream)
in the chill night wind
both clumsy, numb,
up bleachers of endless stadium,
to the end, where the rickety rim
looked out on a spangled plain...

Nightmare and I shivered
in wind and wonder
above that galactic sight:
Infinite City lit the night.
Below, each blue or baleful sulfur light
was a lone soulspark
in the world's dark.
Looking on the millions,
We feared we'd slip and fall:
Nightmare's hooves are clumsy on
Steep steps and wooden slats:
this was no easy astral plane.
Many levels make no level at all.
We'd gone too high: we had room to fall.

My turn. I ask the god
"How can I help others?
What's my right livelihood?"

And the floating god says
"Okay, here's a list of nice charities you can send checks to, and when you're done with that and you're ready to stop wasting my time with bullshit questions, come back and answer my riddle about your own feelings, your own life.
"Oh, and by the way," it adds as a rumbling afterthought, "you should get back together with your ex-wife."

Slapped by God!
But I'm excited too:
I forgot I had a wife!
But now I recall,
She was sweet and hot and yet
I gave her up for a fierce old shamaness,
to learn of the hidden realm.
But it's time for open joy again!
God knows. At least that God knows.

Now time forks, and on the other branch,
I'm hiking out of heaven, down redrock domes,
on narrow crumbly deer-paths worn into the slick.
The Goddess of Liberty guides me with her torch.
A stern young face, but clear--no cynic's mask.
Seedlings cover the canyon walls, still thin,
so slopes above look luminous green,
but slopes below have just a leaf-mist,
for the rock's seen full-face, the plants edge-on.
Liberty says "These hills between waking and dream
Were clear-cut, years ago; they're only now reforesting."
The seeds are carrots--a host of roots come true.
Rain-puddles gleam on the path down dream.
Slippery danger-mud, and yet
the pools feed freedom-seed.
Up slope, contented nightmares feed.

Full circle on Buddha's lottery wheel!
What do YOU think? Did I progress?