The Pittance Of Fools And Dreams

I wondered; I pondered; I thought and I dreamed.

What if of this world there never was a simple me.

Would Leah have married; would she still be a bride?

Would she have lived; or would she still have died?

For I wonder along these lines of printed streams.

If I never were, I could have never loved or dreamed.

Never would joy have come, nevermore the sunshine or rain.

Still moreover; there should nevermore a sorrow born of abject pain.

For if there was never a me oh what would this and Leah’s world be?

Would her smiles still stretch endless across the pale painted sky?

Or would it still of her days to be predestined to suffer and die?

What is to this hope of life did I with paltry ease lay before?

What to Leah’s sweet world did I leave in standing at the door?

For if there never was a me, there never would a life be.

Nevermore of joy to see; nevermore the need to be set free.

For what to her did I truly bring; to what purpose was this life?

If but for naught the world I valiantly fought, yet to still loose my wife?

Oh the pittance of fools and dreams, oh the shadows if there never was a me.

J. Allen Wilson © 11/4/08