Turn On The Dream You

Thats The Way It Is With Poetry: When It Is Incomprehensible It Seems Profound, And When You Understand It, It Is Only Ridiculous.

The First Step... Shall Be To Lose The Way.

When I Sleepwalk Into Your Room, And Pick You Up, And Hold You Up In The Moonlight, You Cling To Me Hard, As If Clinging Could Save Us. I Think You Think I Will Never Die, I Think I Exude To You The Permanence Of Smoke Or Stars, Even As My Broken Arms Heal Themselves Around You.

Turn On The Dream You Lived Through The Unwavering Gaze. It Is As You Thought: The Living Burn. In The Floating Days May You Discover Grace.

Perhaps Poetry Will Be The Canary In The Mine-shaft Warning Us Of What's To Come.