will the prick of day
ever find its way?
will it ever knock and say
“i’m here, wake up,
the world is for the taking,
a dream shall in time remain itself,
if you are down and sleeping.”
a-dream-is-a-dream i say,
an escape;
a wish in empty air;
a whisper; the wind’s promise of tomorrow.
a silent hum of yesterday’s sorrow.
yet after the gush and height
of the moments tease,
it fleets. yes, it goes away.
never does it stay. it will,
it shall indeed go away.
“then in your slumber,
your dream shall remain itself,
for fear cought the hold of tomorrow’s bright.
be forever in hope’s night.”
