All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible.~T. E. Lawrence
It would be a travesty to impose
a moratorium on slumber. Woke
folk in the know insist bliss in the throes
of dream’s unseemly. Full moon at the stroke
of grandfather’s clock, the mainspring unwinds.
We find our enslavement peculiar,
yawning as we climb out of constructs, primed
to slip through time, seemingly our ruler.
Outside the meager narrative of need
we say aha and follow passion’s lead,
decline the lagniappe; our pursuit of greed
forgotten in reality’s stampede.