the better realities
of the tragic mind,
with fidelity to the past
sew the ephemeral twine
of sleepers thoughts,
my morning dreams to unwind.
lingering like false memories
or hopes which fell behind,
she walks the halls of my closed eyes
where i,
in waking cannot find.
and what am i in waking
that a dream cannot rewind?
----------------
the day has ended,
the sun travelled, burned
and descended.
we now to compose our dreams
out of stories and hopes
which time has suspended.
good night darren,
say a prayer for all those
on whom you've depended,
and farewell we'll say
to this world which god has pretended.
