Homunculus Dreams Poem by Wes Thompson

good morning forgives
every night we spend dreaming
when our body lays lifeless
our mind grasps for a meaning
the ghost of the machine
escaping the shell
tears through subjective harness
begging for heaven or hell
and we may watch without acting
worlds crumble and cave
but nothing is real
there's no one to save
unless good morning is waiting
for a boy with bright eyes
to awake from his dreams
of green fields and blue skies