i woke from a dream today.
not this morning--nor last night,
for some dreams take a greater rousing
than one day can manage.
a dream of the grandest sort--
a great story,
the stuff of novels and fairy tales;
full of twists and surprises,
heartache and longing,
rendezvous and restoration.
a dream persisting through fits of waking,
unsure whether it was better to sleep or to rise.
but dreams cannot be held;
they come and go as they please--
and you poor fool are the victim,
not the author.
unable to lay down it all.
a dream that would not die.
how long can life-support last?
and is it right to hope for a revival?
i couldn't seem to help it,
to try to close my eyes once more and see
or even the dream of future dreams.
but a dream none the less.
the thing is,
we all need to wake up sooner or later.
the sweetest dream is still a fiction.
and i say,
give me the ugly truth over the most beautiful lie.
and sinking beneath the tide,
let me come up for air--
and wake like a burst through the surface of the deep,
and able once again
ready for the next plunge.