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Sorrow
mounted its horse and weaved through my yard
like a snake.
The dark rider stopped, held out a hand pointing
towards DreamGate 58.
The wind hissed as we glided, faster
and faster
over trails of broken glass
stopping in a wasteland at last.
The arms of trees bled,
and groaned from the weight of items misplaced.
Canvases ripped, strings snapped in half,
leaves of world peace rotting with hate.
The air was cool
we journeyed in fog
past piles of tools the living once used.
"Never look back," Sorrow
warned me again,
and I dared not resist, such a fool had I been,
I kept my eyes straight as we made our way
to Dreamgate 58.
Black matter filled like a diamond
This porthole in the sky.
Worried people climbed out,
tossing their dreams by the side.
A few lay asleep clutching their bags,
Slumbering in whims
and childhood rags.
Sorrow pulled back, and the horse
gave
A mighty sound as we leaped.
Into dark realms filled with immeasurable heat.
The cool sting of glass
Made my palms bleed,
I let go of Sorrow falling infinitely.
The tick of the clock woke me up instead
Moonlight streamed through my window,
Outlining my bed.
The sharp sting of pain made me realize
I had brought back a piece of Sorrow's night ride.
Perhaps souvenirs of glass
Hang by our sides during sleep,
For when we look back
they will unlock the doors with dandelion grace
that lead us to
DreamGate 58.
Copyright 2001
Author's Note: "Dream Gate 58"
is the part in all of us that exists, where the dreams that have died
hard or been abandoned cling to us - waiting for rebirth or just recognition.
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