I do not remember my dreams any more. I prefer being asleep to being awake. My life is over.
Frail dreams fade,
Shrinking away from the hot, bright light
Of the day
Until evening falls
And they rise once more
(By day
As I sit in the classroom
Only half awake
I sense a presence,
A thin wire
Linking me to them)
My incorporeal allies
Those who do not walk,
But fly. Soaring through the skies
The caress me with their wings
They are God’s precious things.
