the dreamcatcher

gather in tribes,
so you can huddle
around the fire,
and keep warm
and light
under a hidden sun,
wrap yourselves
in shawls and music
and laughter -
the dream-catchers
of abandoned selves
where only the white coin
of a full moon,
slips into the hole
at the centre
of your aloneness
that must be found
some day,
lying asleep
in the fire of your dreams,
glowing in the darkness
that you've forgotten now,
where you came alive -
in the darkness
you so love.