Imgot

Its a funny thing,
the geography of dreams.
Ancient copper scrolls hidden away
in Hindu elephant caves
tell of the first person who dreamt
of the evanescent city of Imgot.
It provides further, miraculous details,
such as how he walked along a beach,
a young man dreaming
of being a young man,
until he found the deeply cut,
narrow chasm that led to the city proper.
Somehow his mother had preceded him,
and with her aged (in some other time and place, deceased)
fingers removed the dust and branches and leafs from a hulking cap stone and there,
in chiseled corners and perfect symmetry,
the name,
Imgot.

Like all dream cities,
it may have had stairs, walls, towers of some architectural dialect or another,
but we as mortal souls visiting an immortal structure
do not remember these transient things.
What makes it a dream city,
and what makes all dream cities unique,
is what it represents to those who visit it.
And in this singular motive,
Imgot is alone in its mystery.

For she does not only appear in dreams,
but nightmares too.
And this suggests an amoral characteristic,
the mere butterfly's wing of a possibility,
the moths' breath of a hint
that Imgot and her beautiful towers
operate on some secret,
higher level.