Dan Hanosh's Dreams Are Yours To Share: Live your Dreams: Sleepless Nights

Sleepless Nights

Dreams, loves and Sleepless Nights . . . My dream is and has been to be a writer, a poet. And I am. My words are from the heart. I write of loves, joys and mystic times, what is and what could be. I write stories about people for people to see, to feel . . . I can make anyone cry a soulful cry and I learned to make them smile also.

I have lived through another time as chaotic as this. And I assure you, it won’t last . . . The 60’s and early 70’s, another war of the lost souls, another time where we were whipped by life’s ugliness . . . It didn’t last then and won’t last now. Hope is in the wind, though it starts as a wee breeze. Hurricane force winds are coming . . .

Another dream has come into fruition. Today let me share with you my latest poetry book . . . Sleepless Nights, my best work yet, a continuation of my first, The World Outside My Window. I write of the world through a poet’s eyes, I write to savor a moment in time. History never captures the feel, our emotional thoughts, never captures our distrust, our loves, losses or disappointments.

Sleepless Nights is special for me. It allowed me a moment to share with my nephew, Chris . . . It gave me a chance to write words with him. I bounced him on my knee and now I was lucky to share a few moments with him . . . At seventeen, my nephew my friend was diagnosed with MS. Today his body is so very weak, the wind could blow him over. But his will is the will of a Sampson, his attitude is insurmountable and he is the reason I continue to write each. He is the reason I have to fight those battles . . .

Sleepless Nights is a sharing of my inner most thoughts. And a chance to sharing of my favorite things . . . The picture on the cover is special place, a place, where I go to be alone. It’s a picture of a path . . . Most people know it as Paradise Springs, but long ago it was called Minnehaha, named after Hiawatha’s wife, Laughing Water, as in Longfellow’s, The Song of Hiawatha. She was said to be a water-fall in a stream that led to the Mississippi.

The path leads to a spring house. People still come from all around to drink of its waters. Those crystal waters fill a small pool and spill out into a lake. The babbling ripples of Minnehaha where beautiful brook trout swim. Many times I can be found sitting on its banks, staring into its waters, watching the ripples as a trout takes a fly on its surface.

My special place is not mine alone. Once, I walked into the spring house and nearly kick over a cigar box. It was a shrine of sorts . . . Its cover lay open touching the sacred stones laid long ago. And inside the case was a picture of a baby. It sat on a bed of rose petals.

My throat tightened and my tears began to well up in my eyes . . . And on the wall of stone was her name and two dates. She had had hardly lived . . . Now, my tears were streaming down my cheeks, so I knelt and said a prayer for my friend and his pain. Now the rose pedals float in the wind and every time I go, I stop and say a little prayer for my friend at Minnehaha Spring House. Dreams are yours to share.

Dan Hanosh
Dreams are yours to Share

AT Dream Training
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