We often wake up heart in hand
From the dross of a messy dream,
Like a crab from the moist morning sand,
Grasping a sinking, gossamer dream, grim,
For most dreams by nature sad are,
As is all life more or less— more-oft more,
Being guided from a distant star,
The moon as directs waters on sea shore.
So did wake up I from this one,
Which, I wished upside down to turn,
Or better still, some night to return;
But we know, dreams are scarce life-like,
And unlike mundane life may not return,
Nor with bodies dead do they burn,
O to prick all next life like a sharp spike.
Man, alas, ne'er does long enough live
To know what today's truly like,
The morrow scarce can a clear vision give,
And moments melt ere we friendship strike.
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- Musings | 02.09.11 |
Like a crab from the moist morning sand, Grasping a sinking, gossamer dream, grim, wonderful examples, similies and allegories in your poem.. love it. tony
And you too Dr tony Brahmin, expert in looking for a stone from the piles of a mine and to see if it is precious enough. Thank you so much.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A clear vision. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Thank you Edward Louis, you really dig out things from a pile. And hello, it's good to meet after a week's gap.