Dreamers

An autumnal dream in the heart of winter,

Crashing against the waves of despair

That is the only luminous entity

Inside this darkness,

Unable to be drunk with life and living,

I endure evenings with delight and pain.

Delight in endings, pain in endings too.

Yet in between the lapses of these

Workings of the universe,

I find myself standing, asleep to songs

Of silent observation, recuperating

From an illness worth dying for.

Delight and pain, and it's all neutral now.

Waking up is what sets me apart,

Waking up to an unmanageable sleepiness,

Into a breathing being of cynical qualities,

Or maybe waking up into a world

Where sleeping is unknown even to

Sunflowers, and everyone blooms

Into a quiet ugliness as they age,

An autumnal dream of ageing quickly -

A question pondered over lifetimes,

A man, degraded, deranged, neither awake

Nor sleepy, floating in space,

An autumnal dream revisited as

Each winter day passes too slowly

To connect the dots, to make something

Out of nothing.

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