Enslaved with the shackles of dreams,
Cycles of grain and chaff in motion,
A blessed curse for my sleep,
As I slosh around in trances,
With my boots puffing dusts,
In ecstasy of the humdrum Dreamland.
Why do my night bears the dream?
Whilst my day a capture of nightmares,
Dreams that long live in its own world,
But haunts me in reality.
Do I even have to dream?
Must I see that line?
The thin arc between “leaving and living".
Can my soul cast it gaze up into my eyes?
And see blood welling out of it.
Can my heart stop rejoicing?
In hope for a hope that exists not.
Can my feet cease to dance?
To the beat my ears heard not.
Can my wishes stop being a wish?
And turn a horse in royalty.
Sleep I shall deprive this body,
Until I rest in peace,
For I know after death -
There's enough sleep.
I shan't continue to lie,
Building castles in the air.
I shan't linger to fondle-
The illusions of vanity,
Whilst my life cycles in a dot.
Fab_du_solvic