3/11/11
What purpose does it serve that through the night,
When evening’s veil is drawn across our minds,
A finger-painted world of unclear sights,
Parades before us, symbols, shapes, and signs?
What message lies therein I might decode,
What secrets of my soul deciphered hence,
Before the living light of day erodes,
That life my psyche, nightly, reinvents?
Perhaps the dreamer sleeps while I’m awake,
My daylight hours, but another dream,
For him to then interpret and mistake,
And puzzle from the images he’s seen.
No doubt, one life is heaven, one is hell,
And daily, we are doomed to haunt ourselves.
