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Portrait of the Artist as a Lone Tree

Stories and Visions

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Fatal dreams

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I dreamed that I was dreaming, when I saw
a host of others dreaming by my side;
some were asleep, and others still had died,
yet never glimpsing things they held in awe.
This was a restful place, or so it seemed,
with each one happy, wrapped within their bliss;
and then I saw what all were caused to miss;
though they were sleeping, no one knew they dreamed.
This single thought enlightened darkness deep;
their magic wrappers overlaid decay.
For they had left abandoned many a day
the lives they lived beyond the wall of sleep.

Sparkling carcasses all wrapped up in dreams -
sweet pretty dreams, great ancient dreams
captured in rapture, made in mockery of mind -
lying for ages long in other mind

Yet then I saw the Dreamer; all his dreams
were sent to wrap us up in bondage long;
to make our minds still sing his siren song,
and only think of what was in his schemes.
I dreamed that I awoke, yet they did not;
I dream to wake, escaping from the plot.


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