Courtney Glover is originally from Fulton County, Georgia. She is a writer, published author, editor and amateur photographer. Her passion for both writing poetry and photography started when she was very young. Three poets that greatly inspired her are Edgar Allan Poe, Robert Frost, and Shel Silverstein. She is the author of four poetry books, including Calypso Dreaming: A Collection of Poetry. Her hobbies include reading, writing, listening to music, and watching movies. She is also the editor of The Sacred Feminine: An Open Skies Collection anthology and the Open Skies Poetry anthology. She currently lives with her family in Camden County, New Jersey. Her Facebook page, Calypso Dreaming Press and Photography, can be found at https://m.facebook.com/SouthernSpunk77/
There are magical things, things not of this world, hidden in plain sight. Mysterious things, hidden from mortal eyes, arcane and recondite. Causing vibrations, almost like musical notes, floating on the midnight air. You can feel it, like a tingling on the back of your neck, raising the hairs. Though you cannot hear it, or touch it with your mortal fingertips quite. And only a chosen few can sense it, in the darkness, in the nebulous of night. Be it magick, supernatural entities, or something much older and far more ancient. A place where the light and the darkness walk hand in hand, unconnected yet adjacent.
The Multiverse of Me
I dream of other worlds, of all the other me’s, of all that I am missing. All strung together by cosmic wires, my souls connected and everliving. As I hold conversations with faces that I’ve never actually met. I’m far more happy when I’m sound asleep, my soul deeply content. A multiverse of carefree lives, far more colorful than my current state. I’m only happy when I’m dreaming, but I’d gladly change my fate. My stormy situation, I long to somehow, in any way, desperately abate. As I dream of other worlds, other lives that I, in my sleep, subjugate.
A small query, or perhaps a large conundrum, regarding the reasons behind all the madness. Are we all trapped in purgatory? All of us reliving the same mistakes, until we prove ourselves worthy of redemption? Maybe we’re all sharing the same dream, while unbeknownst, in a coma. Our psyches all connected to one another. Perhaps this is the matrix, as many have suggested. And there’s the occasional glitch that only a few of us notice. Why do some people seem to live such perfect lives, deliriously happy? While others suffer at the hands of cruelty? One can’t help but wonder, pondering the hundreds of plausible possibilities, concerning everything going on in the world right now.