First Supper with the Drone Dream Ballerina

Walk him to the gates of time
Where she will join and embrace,
Breathe in the freshets of finitude,
Fill his cup with immortal wine
While the festive fires command his unwavering gaze,
That would be without a before,
Without the azure lining of his searching vision, 
His mind machining
Unbeckoned, intervening,
Nothing stands in the way now,
Understand at last,
And take possession of the never before,
There-at in a new once-at  the Ballerina appears,
Stands still at the ready,
Ring the dinner bells,
Unfurl the cloth napkin,
Gently place on lap,
The wine intoxicates,
Nothing is where it used to be,
Watch the blue-yellow glow of the candle flame,
Sky in the center, 
Sun surrounding top,
A greeting of welcome,
Good.
He has tasted of nothing else always,
And yet he knew nothing of the source until now,
Eat.
Dance.
Stop dreaming.
The future stands before you.
Once upon a time.
Do eat in memory of the that to come.
It was the first of the last Ballerina Dreams
Had by Calvin Otten, Jr.

--Possibly the opening to my forthcoming prose-poem-novel 
"Final Dream Drones of the Pastoral Ballerina," which is coming soon