To sleep perchance to dream
Doth the words of the Poet say,
But spoke he then of the dreams of death
In that remembered time of yesterday.

What dreams may come the
Poet's words went on,
But my dreams to me are like
Appollo's Chariot to the dawn.

The racing chariot pulls up the sun
And darkness loses its place,
As my nightly dreams always reveal
My lady's lovely face.

There was a darkness in my mind
And a wound upon my soul.
She has vanquished them both
And again I am Whole.


Max © October 2004