I dreamed
and the dreaming was more real
than reality.
The tides of living carried my dream away,
viciously sucking it
from my soul
in an act of abortion so painful,
I was left empty and gasping
on the shore of loss
Stripped of purpose,
a useless piece of humanity.
The Dream
had filled me with power,
pushed my thoughts
to the lushness of ripe fruit,
to fall,
senuously, upon the dry page,
spreading themselves
in burgeoning beauty.
The aroma, a heady perfume,
filled my senses,
intoxicating, a kind of
madness possessing
my faculties until,
in triumph,
through the womb of the mind it
erupted into life, fresh and new,
amid my blood and tears,
my dream's birthing