I dreamt the multiplicity
Of things brought me to tears –
Such was my sorrow not to see
What is but what appears.

I turned my hand to this and that –
Both roundabouts and swings.
In no time, though, they’d fallen flat,
And heartache broke my wings.

I wandered in the world alone
And scavenged for my food,
And those I met would throw a stone
Or curse my sullen mood.

And, though there’s nothing much to dreams,
I haven’t woken up, it seems.

Photo by Kellen Riggin on Unsplash

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