Merrily,
Merrily,
Merrily,
Verily,
Life is but a dream; or...
Dreams:
Disconnected thoughts,
Patterns of images,
A memory of reality,
In sleep.
The past is built from memories,
Applied to some chronology,
In time . . . . sleeping.
Some dreams are just reality, . . .
A distant noise.
Toss, turn, the pillows,
The blankets,
The sheets,
My feet are cold.
Adjust. . . .

I awoke to this day
With a mind of anguish full,
I could have wondered aloud,
Almost did!
Instead:  A though in reign.

Motion.
Time.
Space.
Outside,
In the sunshine,
Autumn tightens Her grip on the passing year.
A cool breeze.
Draining my innards of a night's revelry,
Alone,
My mind of another night's sorrow,
Then:  Quietly! Quietly!

. . . an hour found eternally,
Drifting through a shrapnel cloud,
No, water,
Like thoughts,
A sudden cry, like cotton,
Grand aspirations,
The onrushing day; birds.
Now ushered in:

Here is a problem to comprehend,
Here is a meaningless solution.
I watch . . .
Your facial expressions roll like thunder
Gray clouds and lightning
Sudden-weather-like-rain-shower-
Burst of sunlight and rainbow
Horizons bathed in gold and orange
And red and purple growing darker . . .
Then a darkness, clouds; quiet-steady-storm.

Engulfs all that is,
Is all that engulfs.
So I?
Subtle, subtle, remaining subtle!
(Cheap, pathetic, useless subtle!)
(Cheap, subtle, pathetic, subtle solution.)


Sounds suddenly greet my mind,
Grip the thoughts, remodel them,
Turn them outside-in,
So that this final contagium . . .
A germ I would have planted.
Love?

The future, the abyss of hopes,
The past, the void of memory,
The present,
Wrapped up, with ribbon, bow,
And tossed at your feet.

(A twisted thought:
Would I pray had I some god?
Invoke Freya to my aid?
Hope for blessings from some deity?
Faith?)

I strive relentless onward,
Grasp the new, betwixt, between,
Now store, now exhibit, now think,
Move hither, tither, and yon.
Shape some meaning out of pieces,
Regroup, reshape, examine, relate,
And then, perhaps:  recoup!
Finally . . . just relax, and all's done:
Watch the light gray clouds.

You smile mystified,
Like another sudden storm
Amidst the light of sun.
What image yours?
Had I occasion to ask?
Perhaps . . . .

But you were never there,
Or had some other occupation;
Attending to some joy?
Some passioned thought?
I can never tell . . .
I cannot tell . . . .

So, slow and subtle,
Found my way home,
This altered mind of anguish,
Untethered, vocalize:

"Now here's this reconstruction,
This vision's grand mirage:
Hope, acquired image,
And dreams affront my eyes."

(Far away a clock chimed.)

I lay there, trying to construe,
I lay there, watching shadows on the wall,
I lay there,
What thoughts are these?
Whence came this picture?
How might I grasp the passing weeks?
Some images before my eyes,
I label them "Today",
And fall into a bliss of hopes,
For "Tomorrow".
Then toss, turn, the blankets,
Sheets, adjust,
And pillows,
Finally, feet warm enough,
I sleep,
Perchance to dream.