~ in other words ~
Once upon a metaphoric plateau,
I bounced around the non-existence of what is ethereal.
Just another average moment, one would think,
but alas, tucked under the dark cold ground,
there was a dream that was resting,
and as he put it,
"I am the oldest dream left,
destined to become real (inside and out)
or forever lay here in your head,
torturing you while you go about reality."
What was I to say to that, nothing could be said.
So I lay there with that dream, and I pulled the ground to my chest.
Oh, I spilled my mind to the poor yet vibrantly beautiful dream.
he shared with me his desire,
while I had only my fading faith,
and perhaps some DNA to help him take dwelling in 'my' waking reality.
This story I can only guess,
will end in a tortured mans downfall,
or a loving dream's destiny will manifest itself to all.
Yet I question strongly if one can occur without the other.
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