Cosmic Consent /Platonic Forms

You cannot think
what is not possible.

Each thought
a doorway waiting in the dark.
We step through
and call it ours.

Even dreams obey the lattice;
wonder itself has law.

We imagine to remember
the spark returns
to what could never not be.

No mind stands alone.
Each breath is an echo
of the world’s own musing.

Possibility thinks through us,
softly,
calling itself love,
calling itself time.

You cannot dream
what is not remembered.

Even the new
is an old fire
glimpsed again.

The dark invents nothing.
It reveals
what light forgot.

Each image
a fragment returning,
each face
a shore once known.

Memory sleeps beneath vision,
breathing its slow permission.

We drift upon its tide,
naming the familiar strange,
the lost newly found.

You cannot dream
what is not remembered.
The universe dreams through you
its ancient symbols
wearing your face.

You cannot see
what is not visible

The veil is not punishment
it is mercy.

Too much light
would unmake the eye.

We glimpse
through fractures in law,
through cracks
where grace resembles shadow.

Each sight a covenant,
each blindness a keeping.

The hidden
is not gone,
only withheld
until we are able.

You cannot see
what is not visible
Still, the unseen watches,
dreaming us manifest.

All things unfold
within their given frame.

Nothing begins unbidden,
nothing ends uncalled.

The seed remembers the tree,
the tree remembers the flame,
and flame remembers silence.

To be
is to move by cosmic consent,
each breath a gate
in the long procession of form.

We rise,
we vanish,
we return,

each moment
a brief obedience
to the law of becoming.